


The Interview

by Nouveau_Monday



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: ATWT AU, M/M, Multi, Rentboys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-06-28
Updated: 2009-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:53:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nouveau_Monday/pseuds/Nouveau_Monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah is being interviewed by a reporter.  Noah is not the Noah we know; he's a rentboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interview (1 & 2)

**Author's Note:**

> Original Notes from my LJ:
> 
> Thank you so much to [](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/)**mightyten** for being my beta for part of this. It's not fully beta'd so some mistakes are all mine. Feel free to email me or leave a comment if it's screwed up some how.

Noah curls his back into his pillows and wraps his arms around his legs. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, how did you get into ... this?" The reporter brushes his hair away from his face. "It's not everyday someone grows up and says, 'You know what? Think I'm going to go out and, well, umm -"

"Get paid by guys to take it up the ass?" Noah raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. _How old was this guy? Twelve maybe?_

The guy chokes on his Diet Pepsi. Noah wonders idly if he's about to have to deal with a dead reporter. "Yeah. If that's, if that's," he swallows. "Hey, if that's cool. I didn't want to offend you. Didn't want to presume what you did." His hands sweat. His cheeks flush. "Or, umm, who you did it with."

Noah laughs. "So it's not the profession that bothers you, it's who I do it with that does?"

"God, no no! I didn't mean anything like that. Not at all. I just, you know, didn't want to -"

"Presume? Got that. It's cool. I told you when you stalked me at Yo's. Interview me. Go to town. Just don't use my real name. And no photographs." He glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. "Look, I've got to be on the streets by evening if I'm going to make rent. It's not really a busy time of year for me." He shrugs. How long had it been since he'd had a drink? a cigarette? He sighs. _Three years, seven months, thirteen days._ The three coins from various home groups shine dimly in the soft light from the window and remind him he really should go to an AA meeting if he wants this badly.

"Oh, hell, I'm sorry. Do you need me to come back another time? That's cool, y'know. I could do that. I want a good interview. You shouldn't feel rushed." The reporter sucks on the end of his pen. "Really. It's not a problem."

Noah reaches out a hand, puts it on the guy's wrist. "Hey, kid, it kinda is a problem. I don't give out interviews usually. And I'm certainly not meeting you again. You could tell the cops. Hell, you could _be_ the cops. This might be part of a sting. What do I know? What do I care? But this is your chance. So why don't you ask my faggot self why I suck dick for money and then go about your happy go lucky life." He snags the can of soda from the boy's side while watching his mouth open and close without any words.

"I'm not a cop. And I'm not a kid. And fuck you. I'm trying to help with this. You shouldn't have to whore yourself. That's crazy. You can't be older than me. Where's your family? Your friends? Doesn't anyone care about if you're hurt or worse doing this?" The blonde goes from shock to anger and white knuckles the arm of the chair.

And that's it for Noah. Interview is so over now. He unwinds his arms from his legs, smoothes his wife beater over his stomach and crawls across the bed toward the kid. "How old do you think I am, kid? You never told me your name in the first place. One of the reasons I figured you weren't a cop. They always get anxious and introduce themselves. Practically bust out the wallet with the family pictures." He snorts. "As if I care that he's not really a queer, that's he got a wife and kids." Noah arches, unwinds his body, so his chin rests on his hands on the edge of the bed. The reporter's lap is less than a foot away.

The kid squeaks again. "I'm almost twenty-two and a senior at Oakdale University. I'm getting my degree in journalism. That's why I'm here. I explained all of that when I asked you to do this." He opens another can and the crack of the metal separating makes his hands shake.

"Careful. You're gonna spill. And then you might need to take off those jeans of yours. How would you explain that to your precious professors?"

"You might like it too much," he mutters.

"Excuse me?" Noah wants to laugh as the kid's face flushes cherry red under his blonde hair. "Just so you know, unless you pay me, I don't like anything. That's how it works in my world. Don't know how it works in yours."

"But, what about love? and monogamy? and coming home to someone? Don't you miss all that? Don't you want a family some day? You can't do this forever, y'know?" The kid gives up on writing note. He mutters about sounding like a dumb ass and hoping the story is good anyway.

Noah does laugh now. He finishes off the partial can he had grabbed, each swallow tips his head and neck back for the guy to watch. He sticks out his tongue for the last fizzy sip, laps gently at the lip of the can. _Point for me_ , he decides as he hears a soft moan that definitely did not come from him. "You're so cute. Never had love. Never cared about monogamy. Never came home to anyone. Family will fuck you up for good. Why would I want to propagate the idiotic American Dream ideal? Also, dude, I'm gay. Never gonna have the wife, or the two point five kids or the two-car garage. At the rate I'm going, I'll be dead by the time I'm twenty-five anyway." He rolls onto his back, stares at the ceiling. The cotton ribbing of his shirt hikes up a little and his jeans hang off his hips. He hears the kid swallows again. <>Another point for me.</i>

"If you think you're going to be dead by twenty-five then you can't be that much older than me. My family is crazy. Like, _really_ crazy. But it didn't drive me to what you're doing. So what the hell? Emo attitude aside, again I ask, why?"

Noah tips his head off the edge of the bed, covers his eyes with his palms. "When your dad tells you you're nothing but the no good son of a whore and that you don't even deserve the clothes on your back, you learn two things pretty quickly. One, if it was good enough for mom, then it's good enough for you. And two, if you don't deserve the clothes on your back, then maybe you better make money on your back without them on." He removes his palms and stares, upside down, at the reporter. "We almost done?"

"How much do you need to make tonight?" The words are out of his mouth before he knows what he's saying. That much is clear to Noah, as the kid looks like he can't believe he just asked that.

Noah winks. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." And it is a pretty face. He would never have agreed to this farce of an interview otherwise. "I've been saving. Even if I only get one or two, it'll do until tomorrow. Maybe it's time to find a new location anyway. I hear Miami's nice this time of year. And in Nevada at least my ass could be legal, y'know?"

"You're leaving?" He shakes his head. "Wait. Don't distract me. I asked you a question. I've asked you a ton, actually, but I really meant this one. How much?"

"More than you can afford on a college boy's salary unless you've got a real hard-on for whores and have been saving up. My sweet ass don't come cheap, kid." He slips out the word 'kid' as slowly as possible. He can't help himself.

There is fumbling in pockets. The recorder falls on the floor. "Look. I've got, umm," he counts the crumpled bills, "I've got five hundred. How much of your time can that get me?"

"You're serious?" Noah shifts back to his stomach. "You're willing to shell out five hundred dollars to what? Keep me off the streets for a night? Think you're doing me a favor? This isn't fucking _Pretty Woman_."

"I don't think that, Noah. I don't. I'm not naive just because I want to settle down some day. That doesn't make me dumb." He stands up, drops the money roll next to the alarm clock. He sits on the bed next to Noah and runs a warm hand over the stretch of exposed skin on his stomach. "I've got the money. I've been saving it. For you. I saw you in October when you started working the corner near Yo's. It took me this long to find out who you were, find out what your deal was. And now, as you so eloquently put it, I want to be one of those guys who pays you to take it up the ass. Noah, I'm gay. I've been out for seven years. But sometimes, finding someone is a pain. There aren't a lot of out and proud here, and I'm not so good with the approaching them. Finding someone as hot as you is definitely hard, no pun intended. Especially in this area. So, if you'd take the money and, you know, let me make you come screaming my name, well, I'd be much obliged." A blush dusts the reporter's face.

"For five hundred, I'd even make you breakfast in the morning. And I'd make sure you _were_ as much obliged as you think I'm going to be. I have a couple regulars, but if you got that kinda cash, I'd pick up another, no question." Noah likes the touch of this guy's hand. It's not angry, just thoughtful, and he doesn't seem nervous any more. He _hates_ that he told this guy his real name, wishes he'd thought to use Jake instead. How was he supposed to know the cute guy who asked to buy him coffee was actually looking to pick him up? Noah shakes the uneasy feeling from his head. "Got a name, kid? That way I know what to scream as I'm coming?"

The reporter stands up, strips off his shirt and pants efficiently, commando underneath. He folds them on the chair, then comes back to the bed. He straddles Noah's thighs and smirks, leans in toward Noah, flops blonde hair into both of their faces. "The name's Luke," he breathes over Noah's skin. "Luke Snyder, and I promise, I'm gonna make this worth your while."

*****

Noah's laughter catches in his throat as the earnest ray of sunshine that had been interviewing him grabs power from somewhere within him. The kid looks like he knows how to control every muscle in his own body. He breathes inwardly, slinks up Noah so their cocks line up through the layer of denim. He watches the kid brush aside anything that doesn't personify _Top_.

"Well okay, Luke Snyder," Noah purrs. "You've bought my time and piqued my curiosity. Let me get out supplies and get naked. Five hundred buys you damn near anything you want tonight. If you'll let me put the money in my safe, I can even pull out the handcuffs." Noah winks, undulates to rock into Luke's groin. "Police issue. The real deal. The cop felt sorry, and maybe guilty. I wasn't about to argue. He tipped well, left the cuffs, and accidentally screwed up the report so the charges were dropped."

Luke captures Noah's wrists between his fingers, squeezes. "No handcuffs necessary this time. And, umm, I'd like to undress you? If that's allowed? Where do you keep ... stuff?"

Noah rolls his eyes. _Jesus the kid was innocent. What the fuck did he want with a whore? No way there wasn't some sweet little GLBT dorkboy waiting at home, or in a dorm, for this one._ "Condoms and lube in the top drawer of the night stand. Massage oil and flavored lube in the middle drawer."

"And the bottom one?"

"Toys, kid. Plenty of them. Plugs, vibrators, scarves, ties, paddles, the handcuffs. You got a kink? I can accommodate you." Noah uses the arch of his back and the length of his arms to reach the stand. He opens each drawer a little bit as he describes its contents.

Luke shakes his head. "I'm good."

Noah takes the moment to eyeball the kid that had just purchased his time. His cock was bigger than expected, and he's been hiding well defined muscles under his baggy clothes. "More than good." Noah touches the tip of his tongue to his upper lip and smiles. "Want me any specific way, or should I just roll over?"

Luke crawls off him. "Sit up. Wanna start by getting this shirt off." He tugs at the thin ribbed cotton, clumsy, needy. He winks. "Guess I should see if you're worth all this."

Noah rotates to lean his back against the headboard. He wishes the light was dimmer, or preferably off. This part - the examining the merchandise - he's never gotten used to it. Noah attempts to relax the clench of his jaw. "And if I'm not?" He raises his arms, closes his eyes as the shirt is peeled over his skin. "What then?" He keeps his eyes jammed shut.

"Oh."

The soft exclamation has Noah curling up, tucking his knees up to his chin. He dares to lift his eyelids, regards Luke from behind his eyelashes, cannot fathom what Luke sees. "What? What does 'Oh' mean?"

"You. You're. God." His words are a benediction across Noah's skin. His hands reach to brush across the dip of pale skin at Noah's collarbone.

"Yeah, well, God hasn't been here in awhile. Expecting to go somewhere else really, what with all I've done." Noah reaches back again to adjust his light to a dimmer setting. He shifts to rummage through the top drawer of his nightstand. "I've got latex and latex-free, if you've got allergies. Latex comes in a variety of thicknesses and textures." Noah refuses to look at his client who appears to have frozen. He chooses instead to spread out their options. "I don't need compliments. I give them. Just chose what you need for now and I'll put the rest away. That's how this works. You've paid for the time. I don't skip out on clients. Word spreads fast if you do that." He sighs at Luke's wide brown-eyed stare. _I'm going to have to hold_ his _hand through him fucking_ my _ass. That butch act earlier must have been just that. An act._ "Here. Latex, but the best." Noah drops a condom at Luke's side. "This is my preference for lube. It washes off the easiest." He tosses that next to the rubber. "Only other request I have is that you don't leave marks. A lot of idiots like to imagine that they're my first." He laughs. "So yeah, I get better tips if I'm not covered in hickeys or anything."

"No marks. Right." Luke scoops up the small packet of lube. "I use the same kind."

"Well isn't that just peachy. With your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend right now," Luke growls. "I'd never cheat on someone. Who do you think I am?"

Noah arches his eyebrow at the indignant look on his client's face. "Dude. I think you're the guy that just paid a whore to get him off. Speaking of, are we going to get on to that any time soon?"

"Now. So done with talking. And don't call yourself that." Luke pushes Noah's legs down, sits on his calves. He slips the first button from its hole in Noah's jeans. The others pop easily when he yanks. Luke's hands shake, but Noah remains silent, eyes downcast. "Up."

Noah cants his hips, helps Luke strip him. His muscles ache to curl up again, to protect him from the slow survey of night dark eyes.

"Where'd that come from?" Luke runs a finger over raised scar tissue along Noah's ribcage.

Noah shrugs. "Somewhere. Nowhere. I don't remember." Sweat raises on his palms. He hears the rough tones of fear in his own clogged throat. _Before he knew better. Before he knew not to get caught._

"Same for these ones?" Luke's fingers skirt over the five small circles on Noah's thigh.

"Yeah. It was awhile ago." _Before he'd stuffed enough clothes for a week and the $250 the Colonel kept for emergencies in his backpack. Before he'd taken a bus to DC and found himself desperate for food, shelter, human touch._ "Years even."

"What about these?" Luke flicks his fingers across the body jewelry.

Noah whimpers. "When I was seventeen. I traded blowjobs with a friend who had just gotten his piercing license." He bites his lip against the pleasure reverberating from the push and pull of the barbell in each nipple.

"Body modification as business investment?" Luke palms Noah's chest, massages around the metal without direct pressure.

Noah shifts, ignores the throb in his cock. "No, Mr. Reporter." He coughs to cover the squeak he almost lets out. "No. Those were just for me. Not a lot of call for whores to get off. It's not really about my needs. This one," he sticks out his tongue. "This was a business investment. Couldn't give head for nearly a month, but the money since then? Totally worth it." He rolls the jewelry against his lips, watches Luke's slack-jawed lust. "Get that rubber on and I'll show you what this baby's good for. I've been told it's a whole new world." Noah reaches for Luke's hips.

"Wait, no." He grabs Noah's wrists. "I don't want you to blow me."

"You don't?" Noah knows he fails to hide the skepticism in his voice, vacillating between amused and insulted. Luke's cock tells a different story.

"Okay, shit. Yes, all right? Yes I _do_ very much want you to blow me. I'd love it. But really, I want what I said in the first place. I want to fuck you. Hard. Now."

"How do you want me?"

"On your knees, I guess."

"You _guess_? Kid, make a decision. Lights? Want them on or off?"

"On."

"There, that wasn't so hard." Noah grins. He's into the rhythm now. None of that fake seduction shit Luke was trying to pull before. "You gonna prep me or should I? I would have done it earlier if I'd known it was going to be _that_ kind of interview."

"I can. If you trust me?"

Noah frowned. "It's not about trust. it's about business. And maybe the fact that I'm licensed to carry concealed in several other states. I can't believe it hasn't passed here yet. I trust _myself_ , kid, now let me turn over." He wiggles his legs free from the warm weight of Luke and rotates. He rests his head on his arms, spreads his legs enough for his client to fit between them. "I'm good," he murmurs as much to the pillow as to Luke.

"Not yet. But you will be."

Luke's fingers surprise Noah as they explore his back. He holds his breath at the touch to old scars, almost whimpers at the sensation of lips at his lower back.

"I like the tattoo." Wet heat traces the symbol. "Stand for something? Another investment?"

Noah fails to breath for a moment. "Yeah." He refuses to say more, refuses to say which.

"Fair enough." Luke presses his front against Noah. Reaching over him, his cock grazes the crease of Noah's ass.

"Hey! Lube! Condoms! Fuck, get off me!" He gets his knees up under him, but doesn't manage to buck the kid. "Get away from me."

"Whoa, easy. Easy. I'm getting a pillow is all. Here, lift up a little." Luke steadies his hand, pets across Noah's hip, down his outer thigh. "You're more skittish than the colts at the farm. Just wanted to make it easier. Helps if you aren't flat against the bed. Certainly more comfortable for you."

"I'm not a damned virgin." Noah can't help but laugh. " _My_ comfort isn't high on my list of priorities." He adjusts the pillow, wedges it against his stomach, keeps his legs underneath him.

"Yeah, well. It should be. People are supposed to like their jobs at least a little bit, or, I don't know, find a new profession." He tears open the lube, held in his hand since he noted the brand. "Should be warm now." Luke hesitates.

Noah waits. Naked with his ass in the air isn't his favorite way to spend an evening. "Any time, kid."

"Quit it with the kid bit, will you?" Luke palms Noah's ass, startles a gasp from him by grazing his teeth over the firm flesh. "I'm not a kid. I told you. We're the same age. Now be quiet a moment and let me, I don't know, concentrate." He pauses, rubs his fingers against the pale skin in front of him. "Maybe you need a clearer reminder?" His teeth nip Noah's skin, nearer the crack, lathes his tongue over the red mark he leaves. "You're mine for now. I bought you until tomorrow."

"I told you no fuckin' marks. You wanna bite, you need to pay more. If I bruise, I can't work until it's gone." He waits. keeps his face toward the pillow and away from his client. _Jesus, can we get on with the program already?_ "Gonna fuck me, Ace, or just crow about it? I'll give you back your money, no harm, no foul, and hit the streets if you can't get it up. Call the interview what it was - a way for you to meet me. We're all square now. You've met a whore. Consider your life goal fulfilled." Noah shimmies, teases Luke, cranes his head to try and see him. "We done here?"

*****

"No." Luke clutches his hands, strong from farm work, over Noah's fine china pale hips. "We are most certainly not done. You need the money. And I," he swallows. " _God_ I want you. Just stuff your face into that pillow and get ready to scream." He growls, not a fucking kid, not someone's younger brother, someone's poor gay son. _He's a goddamned senior in college, with a good job, and good prospects and why is he giving himself a self-help talk when there's all this skin and potential being offered up in front of him._

Luke can't help himself. He places the lube down on the nightstand so it doesn't squish everywhere. He watches the muscles of Noah's back shudder. "Don't worry, baby, I'm not that rough. Got a better idea." He figures that for enough warning, uses his thumbs to spread Noah wide enough to blow against his entrance. Luke's pulse increases. He leans in, swipes the flat of his tongue over the delicate skin. He groans, swipes his tongue again, tastes soap, and sin, and his own desire to make the man in front of him fall apart. "God." Another lick. He swirls his tongue. "Fuck," he whispers. None of his stupid boyfriends ever let him do this.

"Wha-" Noah swallows, tries to move away from the heat of Luke's hands and the wet of his mouth. "What? What are you _doing_?" Luke hears the whine in Noah's voice, wonders about the weakness. "Jesus."

Luke holds tighter, stops Noah moving. "Am I, umm, is it bad? Or not allowed or something? Because if you really don't know, I guess maybe I'm doing something wrong." He points his tongue, dips past strong muscle and into heat. He laughs at the moans he can ring from a man with more experience in a week than Luke has had in his entire life. He delves deeper, spreads Noah wider with hands, blows cool breath over damp skin. "Jesus, you're gorgeous _everywhere_ "

"Yeah, well, it helps in this line of - _**nnngh**_ "

Luke slides his legs behind and between Noah's, effectively cutting off his words. He moves one hand to the tattoo in the small of Noah's back and strokes down the inside of his thigh with the other. Luke's tongue maintains a steady lick, press routine. He's aware of his dick like he never has been. The heady power of being in charge - an act he rarely performed - sings in his blood. " _God. Need to. Fuck_ " He pants against Noah's skin, watches the play of muscles as they shudder.

*****

Noah white knuckles his sheets. His spine is tight. His chest heaves. He will not whimper, will not beg. _Fuck that._ Some pretty boy wants to tongue his ass _and_ pay him, so much the better. He screws his eyes shut, remember his job against the black of his eyelids. "That's it, Ace. Don't need much. Come on. Suit up and lube me." He can't say his normal line, can't say _It's never been like this with anyone else_. The sting of _not lying_ burns at his throat. "I'm ready when you are." He rocks his hips back, gasps at the stubble against his skin. Noah needs this over now. He can taste salty blood and diet soda on his bite-bruised lips. Each swipe of hot, wet tongue creates false intimacy and draws more boiling need to his cock. "Jesus. Fuck me already." He pants, refuses to say _it's never been like this_ , refuses to give anything but ass away. Noah releases the hand nearer the nightstand and grabs the packet Luke set down. He fumbles his arm back, but makes his point clear. He catches his breath, arches his back, wants a cigarette so fucking bad. Lost in his own denial, Noah moans aloud when two fingers are pressed deep inside.

"So tight. Noah. So amazing." Luke traces each knot of Noah's spine with his tongue. "Come on, baby. Want to hear you. Fuck. Want to make you cry out." His chest is flush with Noah's skin. His dick rides the small of his back, slicking pre-come over black ink. Luke reaches his other hand around to tug at the metal in Noah's nipples.

He barely hears the sigh of breath Noah expels. Luke's nerves are pulsing, vibrant against his skin, so he can't help but notice how Noah leans into the tug and thrusts back onto his fingers. Luke tugs at the piercings once again and adds a third finger simultaneously. _Shit_. He's not going to make it. He needs to know the sensation of Noah around him right the fuck now. "I'm so ready, baby, so ready. Wanted you to come first, but I can't." He slides hands away from Noah, struggles with the rubber and the lube and his own blinding need.

Luke lines his dick up with Noah's ass. He presses in harder and faster than he means to and forgets how to breathe all at once. He uses all his strength to pull Noah up. Luke's legs threaten to give and he's glad he's more or less kneeling. The shift of position drives him deeper into Noah.

Noah keeps his eyes closed barely. The safety of darkness wars with the stars he begins to see as Luke slides across his prostate. He leans back into the cage his client's arms. Older clients couldn't enjoy this, didn't want the contact of sweaty skin against skin. His cock drips pre-come. His inner thighs are over sensitive and he feels _everything_ rub against him.

Hands cover his ribs, slide up his side, tease up to his nipples. Noah toys with his tongue stud to muffle any sound he wants to make. He allows his head to roll back, stretches his neck against Luke's shoulder, making sure to face _away_ from his _client_. He lifts himself up and down, bends, squeezes, rocks, anything to speed Luke to climax. Noah's hands wrap behind their connected bodies. He clings to his client's back.

*****

 _Extra money be damned_ , Luke decides. He fists Noah's dick and turns to bite hard at the pale column of exposed skin. Luke speeds his thrusts and his hand, sucks punishing, branding marks. "I'll pay. I'll pay," he promises. "Just needed to it. Needed to, fuck, just needed to do it, Noah."

"Damn right you will." The thickness of Noah's words catch at the edge of Luke's brain.

"Shit. Did I? Did I hurt you?" His hand pauses. His hips stop moving.

"Only going to hurt me if you stop right now. Come on, Ace. Both of us were almost there." Noah lifts himself up and down. He pants. "Come on, come on, _come on_."

Luke can follow cues, especially when they lead to orgasms, and right now that's the goal. He twists his hand to gather more of the slick pre-come, tightens his hand a little more roughly. His hips snap up. _God, feels so good, almost too good_. "I'm almost there, baby, almost there. Just, oh god, fuck." His legs shake. His toes curl. He tips them forward, grateful that Noah catches on quick enough to brace them both. Luke can't help it, can't be soft, can't be gentle, just needs to go harder, faster, deeper, own. He growls, shifts his teeth to scrape against Noah's shoulder and bites again, sucking blood bruises to the surface of Noah's skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Noah swears into the pillow.

Luke's hand and hips stutter as he comes. He pushes himself through the aftershocks even as he continues to fist Noah. "Come for me, baby. You can do it. Let yourself go." He swipes his thumb over the slit, jacks Noah with new determination. "Now, baby, Noah, Noah, Noah," he whispers into Noah's back.

Noah's body shakes and then he _is_ coming, just like Luke told him to do. "Oh god, oh god, _oh god_. So good. So good, Luke." Luke likes the sound of Noah's whispered words, likes the look of this gorgeous man flushed pink and fucked out, loves that Noah called his name.

"So beautiful, baby," Luke laps at Noah's neck, tastes sweat and sex. His dick twitches, but he knows that won't actually be happening any time soon. He's sleepy and fucked out himself. "Gonna pull out now. I'll be careful." He trails kisses down Noah's vertebrae while his hand clutches at the condom. His breath hitches, feeling lost without the intimate contact of being inside someone. He ties off the rubber.

"Trashcan on the left by the head of the bed." Noah tips his head to sort of nod at where he meant. Other than that, he doesn't move. Luke watches that his hands haven't released the sheets from where he braced their fall. His chest still moves quickly, but other than that Noah's not switching positions or looking at Luke or _anything_.

"Are you alright?" Luke isn't sure what to do, what he wants. He hadn't thought he would actually get up the courage to pay for services in the first place. He slides his body next to Noah's, curls around him. "That was amazing. You were amazing, Noah." He hates that he can't think of better words to explain what just happened. He tightens his grip around Noah's chest, pets his stomach, loves the feel of afterglow.

*****

Noah thinks maybe he's about to die. There's no other explanation for how empty he is, and still he wants to throw up the sum of his entire life's food intake. He shakes and can't stop enough to even tell Luke to not touch him. He's dizzy. "You have to go. You have to go now."

Muscles tighten around him pulling Noah closer into the warmth of Luke's skin. "What?"

Noah inhales. Salt burns in his eyes. "I'm not your fucking _baby_. I may be amazing, but that's because I'm a goddamn _whore_ , kid. I've trained myself to be skilled, to take it up the ass and make men feel good about themselves." He struggles free, rolls onto his stomach, will not make eye contact. "My normal fee is $200 for anal at this time of year. You marked me up, but we'll call it even. Take $300 back and get the hell out of here." He clutches the pillow, wraps himself around it.

There is no movement behind him. The bed remains still.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said to leave. Tricks don't get to stay the night unless I say so and unless they buy the room. This isn't the fucking Lakeview and you didn't pay. Take your money, hell, take the whole fucking bankroll and get out of here" The harsh words rip at his throat, stings his lungs. He manages to choke it out and then can't stop. "Go. Go. Go."

Noah hears Luke stumble off the bed. "I don't understand? What just happened? Noah?" He throws on his jeans and t-shirt with no clean up. Luke kneels in front of Noah's face, tentatively drops a hand to Noah's bare shoulder. "How did I screw this up? Explain it to me?"

Noah shoves his palms against his eyes. His voice, hell _everything_ , is broken. "There's nothing to explain. You sat down for coffee at Yo's. I thought, I don't know, I thought maybe you were interested." He swallows the hot taste of bile. "And instead, it turns out you know who I am, what I do, and now." He can't continue this conversation. "Now you need to get the fuck out of here so I can vomit and take a shower and maybe puke again. So thanks, kid, for a spectacular orgasm. Take your money and get the fuck out."

Noah peaks through his fingers, watches Luke stand up, hears him whisper, "This isn't over" as he makes his way to the door.

He hears the snick of the door before he rolls over to heave violently into the trashcan, covering the used condom and lube package, wiping out all signs that something had happened. "Wanna bet?" _It's **so** over._ Noah forces himself out of bed and heads to his bathroom. Inside he scours the scent of Luke off of him and contemplates where he'll find a new street corner until the end of the month when his lease runs up.


	2. The Interview (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah finds a new location and tries to return something Luke left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Notes from my LJ:
> 
> Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks. And also elin_aurora who saved me during my time of need.

Noah stumbles into Java. "Coffee, black." He grabs the barista behind the counter by his noxious green shirt. "And seriously, I mean black like burned, the way you usually do it, no cream, no sugar, no nutmeg, no weird spoons dipped in chocolate or any of that other girly shit. Coffee. Make that two. Extra large. Both to go." He slaps a ten on the counter. "If they're at my table within the next five minutes, I'll double that money. If the lids are on and I can bolt out the door, so much the better. I'm desperate, man. Please." Apparently he looks psychotic enough, because the guy behind the counter nods like one of those big-headed bobble head toys and scurries away to the coffee pots. Noah scrubs his hands over his face, slams his body into a chair and throws his hoodie over his hair. Hidden like that, he's fairly confident that people will leave him the fuck alone. At least they will if they know what's good for them.

The coffees slide onto the table in their little cardboard tray. The smell wafts through the thick poly-cotton blend of his sweatshirt. _Maybe today will be better than the last two?_ He smiles near on beatifically at the barista. "Thanks, man. I'm sorry I was such a dumb-ass queen over there. No caffeine in a couple days. Makes me all crazy and shit." He peels another ten from the black wallet he's plied from his back pocket. "Really. I'm sorry. But I'll go before I scare any of your other customers away."

The already confused college boy looks more confused as he stutters out a thanks and gets the money into his pocket quick. Noah rolls his eyes. He hasn't been that young since, well, since forever. _How are they possibly letting people go to college like that?_ So unprepared for assholes like himself. It doesn't seem right.

Noah swallows the first bitter sip with his eyes closed. The heat spills down his throat and spreads across his lungs. He thinks he could find religion in the nervous hand of the early morning coffee boy. Whoever the kid is, he always makes it a bit too strong and burns it more than Noah imagines most sane people would like. The second and third gulps go down smoother. He feels warm, _finally_.

It's freezing outside Java and this blissful cup of coffee, not for the first time, Noah wonders how the fuck he wound up here. Oakdale fucking Illinois. Why had his mom come here, of all places? Not that doctors and professors didn't pay well to get their rocks off, but surely she could have found clients anywhere. He'd seen a picture of her once, before the Colonel had destroyed it. Whatever the reason, what was done was done. Noah found her gravestone and a corner and now he needed a new one. Yo's is not an option for more than another seventy-two hours. Long enough to tell the semi-regulars he'd moved somewhere new and make sure they had his number. Short enough that dumb kids won't try to find him.

Noah frowns into his coffee. The air feels strange outside of the apartment he hasn't wanted to leave. Luke hasn't tried to see him, at his alley, Java, or at his apartment. The tape recorder remains on the bedside table. Noah knows he should buy new batteries for it. They must be almost dead after recording the entire night. He wonders if Luke meant to embed everything, including Noah's spectacular freak out, on the tape? _Probably not. Purchasing sex is as illegal as selling it._ Kid is a naive pain in the ass, but he doesn't strike Noah as stupid.

He clutches his first cup in his hands, downs the last third in one long pull. Noah stands, slinks over to the counter oozing as much sexual promise as he can find. The boy behind the counter has definitely noticed. "Hey kid, you work here often? I see you almost every morning. Do you only do AM hours?"

Coffee boy twitches, stutters. "No?"

"It's not a trick question. Not gonna get you in trouble. Your coffee is my favorite. It's strongest." Noah smiles, stares boldly into his barista's eyes to cover the bald faced lie he's about to say. He worries his tongue stud across his bottom lip. Distraction never hurts either. "Talked to this guy here a couple days ago. Thought I might look him up. Kinda messy blonde hair. Wears stripes a lot. Really brown eyes? Mouth made to give head? This sound familiar at all? Said his name was Jake, or Matt, maybe Paul? One syllable, definitely." Another pass of metal across his tongue, a promise of something never going to happen.

"Luke? You mean Luke Snyder, don't you? Sure, who doesn't know him? He's been practically living here when he's not at Yo's." The kid behind the counter frowns. "Luke's a nice guy. What do _you_ want with him?"

Noah shrugs, doesn't meet his eyes. "We were talking, and he accidentally left something with me when he left. Don't know how to reach him. Wondered if I could bring it by later? Maybe you could pass it back to him? You could share a drink with me?" Noah blocks out the pain in his stomach. He has no business flirting with some guy who probably can't buy his own drinks yet.

The kid smiles. "You got a thing for Luke? That's cute. Man, everyone seems to want him." He scans up and down Noah's body. "Luke usually dates a little more jock, or, I don't know, hipster. Never seen him go for punks or goths. But what the hell, right?" He smiles. "Everyone needs variety." Coffee boy wipes his hands on the towel at his hip. "The name's Roth. Me and Luke go back to freshman year. Met him during orientation. He likes his coffee with extra milk and sugar." Roth rolls his eyes. "I still haven't broken him of the habit."

Noah laughs. "Tell me he doesn't always drink those awful candy coated caramel-hazelnut-macadamia-chocolate things with whipped cream and sprinkles that pretend to be coffee?"

Roth winks, grins. "I'll keep that and the fact that you tried to hit on _me_ to get dirt on _him_ quiet." Noah flushes, hates his pale skin as he feels the heat course over his cheeks. "Also," Roth continued. "I should warn you that he's been mooning over some guy since forever it seems like. At least October. I thought maybe he'd finally manned up and done something about it earlier, but he's back to moping." He glances at his watch. "I'll be here for the late afternoon rush. Any time after 2, but probably 3 or 4 is better."

"Thanks, umm, Roth," Noah says, trying out his barista's name. "I, umm, it's not like that. I just, I should get this thing back to him." Noah wraps his hoodie tighter around him, yanks the hood up and over his head, almost covering his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Man. Check ya later. I'll save some of the good stuff for when you come back."

 

Noah roams over Oakdale around lunchtime, tape recorder jammed in his pocket so he can ditch it as soon as possible. The alley - his alley, damn it - is still the best location. He thinks maybe that a spot near the hospital might do. EMTs are usually more than willing to fuck away the violence, the blood, the everything they see every day. _It's almost like I'm doing a public service_. Noah snorts, doubts that would fly if he were to get busted again. Still, there's a 24/7 convenience store near it, so he can grab all the essentials if he needs them. Noah rolls his shoulders. What he should buy are gloves and a real jacket, but lube, condoms, and cheap coffee seem somehow more important when hooking.

He wanders back, finds himself on the Oakdale U campus feeling slightly better about his new spot. At least not put out to be leaving his alley. Hopefully he could pick up a few more regulars.

Students pour out of the buildings, scramble to others and out of the cold. Noah smiles. He's got an hour and a half before he ditches the tape recorder with Roth. Noah follows a gaggle of students into the Media Arts building, and into a larger lecture hall. The best, and most oblivious, professors seem to teach in the film department. He grabs a seat in the back, near the door.

The professor, one Noah vaguely recognizes from other stealth-audits he's done, stands at a podium talking to a woman. The woman is a tiny blonde thing, reminding Noah a bit of a Min Pin an ex-client of his had; cute but fierce, with no sense and barely a foot tall. Noah forgot the pen and notebook he usually carries to blend in. He scans the auditorium and figures he's safe.

Fifty minutes later, Noah rises from his seat to give this Katie person the credit she deserves. He applauds with the students. Fewer than five minutes in to her talk, Noah realized he had seen her on _Oakdale Now_ or whatever it was called. Never in a million years would he have pictured her as driven and dynamic. She always seemed so vapid on camera.

Noah ignores the first couple of questions gushed from the audience. _Katie, you're an inspiration!_ and _What's it like to work with your husband?_ and Jesus, why didn't someone just ask her bra size and be done with it? Noah raises his eyebrow, appraises her body with practiced ease, probably no more than a 34B anyway.

A voice from the front of the room interrupts him. "Is WOAK participating in the internship program in conjunction with Oakdale U?" Noah's body responds to the question even before his mind catches up. _How the fuck did he manage to wander into Luke fucking Snyder's class?_

"Hey Luke, glad to see you're still interested in WOAK." She offers a flirty smile down from her place by the podium and Noah stifles an urge to kick her in the head. Katie goes on to address everyone. "It is true that the station will be participating. We'll be looking for three to five interns. Before anyone asks, yes, we will pay, and yes, that pay will suck. You'll be interns. Deal with it. The applications will be at the station starting Friday. Deadline is the end of March. All final decisions will be made by the first of May. That should give you time to defer schools or change plans if you wanted to leave Oakdale." She raises her hand over the rumble of voices. "The first two rounds of weed outs are anonymous. We won't be able to be involved in the process if we know the finalists." She winks down into the front row. "Sorry Luke, Reg, but you gotta get this on your own merit."

"No worries, Katie. We will." A shiver slices down Noah's back at the determination he remembers hearing in his bed just a few days before. He dashes for the door, lets it slam behind him, heedless of the spectacle he makes of himself.

Noah flies toward Java like the cops are on him. Roth's tall, gangly form is visible through the window, like a lighthouse beacon. Noah gasps in breath unsuccessfully at the door. Rich hot air clashes with the chill in his lungs. He wedges himself into the darkest table in the furthest corner and waits for his blood to slow within his veins. Noah counts to ten in German - _Eins, Zwei, Drei_ \- and begins to regain his center.

"Hey, you okay? Came in like the hounds of Hell were on you." Roth slides an extra large to go cup under Noah's nose. "If you wait about ten minutes, you can return whatever Luke left to him personally. He'll be out of class any minute now. Texted me to tell me he was on his way over here."

"No." Noah grips the cup hard enough to pop the lid off. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so loud. He, uhh, wouldn't want to see me again. Trust me." He wriggles his hand into the pocket of his jeans. "I'm sure he's been lost without it." Noah palms the mini-recorder one last time, should feel bad about the duplicates he made of the tape and instead berates himself for being lame. He slams the machine down on the table, shoves it at Roth like it's soaked in acid. "Just make sure he gets it, would you?" Noah stands.

"Holy shit." Roth clamps onto Noah's wrist. "Jesus. You're the guy, aren't you? I mean, shit, I can't believe you've been storming in here five days a week since the beginning of the year and I never put two and two together." He laughs, but doesn't let go. "All this time we've been talking about the same guy. Jesus, I'm an idiot."

"You're something, alright. Get your hand off me. Nobody touches me unless I fucking say they can. And you don't have that kind of cash." His voice is quiet now, but Noah assumes that he's made himself clear. He shakes his suddenly freed wrist. "That's better. Now, can you give the tape recorder to your precious Luke? Or should I find another way to get it to him?"

Roth crosses his arms over his green Java shirt, leans back, tips the chair. He surveys Noah. "How did you know to ask about him here?"

"Dude, you don't get to ask _me_ questions when _you_ accosted _me_." Noah should leave, trust that the recorder will get to Luke and go.

"That's not an answer, that's an evasion. You tell me how you know, I'll tell you what I was talking about. Only, you gotta talk first."

Noah wants nothing more than to punch his overly cocky morning barista in the mouth. "Are we twelve here? Gonna double dare me?"

"If I have to." Roth is calm. His eyes remain firmly on Noah. "Look, Luke's one of my best friends. You're some mystery guy Luke's got the biggest hard on for. You appear out of nowhere, treat me like a bad case of jock itch most of the time, and then you have these mood swings where you're all nice and generous. Actually, you're always generous. Great tips. Thanks, man." He shakes his head. "But that's not the point. The point is _you_. What gives? Who are you?"

It's too much information for Noah to process. Roth's words spin in this strange jumble of sound and images that don't add up.

>   
> He'd been in Oakdale since September, hitched with some random sophomores who had more money than sense, but at least didn't ask questions. The small month-to-month apartment had been easy to get and the alley fell into place before the first month's rent was due.
> 
> Noah liked working college towns. Closeted professors and easy access buildings with heat and no ID required. No one noticed when he sat in on bigger classes. Heck, he'd even allowed himself to debate with a professor or two before sneaking out a side door. Not to mention the occasional frat boy trying to find an answer to his life's desire in a drunken homo fuck.
> 
> The coffee in the quaint little collection of old town storefronts kept Noah functioning and he liked to watch the people who came and went. Sometimes, though he was loathe to admit it, he dreamed about being a normal college student with no worries other than finals and student loans.
> 
> Those dreams crystallized in the casual laughter of a messy haired blonde guy who almost always wore stripes. Over the next couple of months, Noah had filled in gaps about the guy. He drank tea in the morning while he tapped away on a laptop. Everyone seemed to know him, patted his shoulder, stopped to say _hi_. Nothing but small talk about the weather or the local news. Noah started to wonder if anyone really knew the guy or if they all thought he was just a pretty face.
> 
> They'd bumped into each other, literally, at the entrance to Yo's one night. Noah about to blow some frat boy in the bathroom, Luke on his way to some place else. Luke had smelled good; clean and outdoorsy, but like a farmer, not a lumberjack. He had offered his really strong hand and this smile. God, that mouth. He'd watched him chew on enough plastic stirrers while he drank his tea, but up close and personal? Those lips were made to suck cock. Noah was sure he must have blushed, but he also knew that he only had so much time or dumb frat boy would become belligerent and that could mean beatings or cops, and certainly not getting paid. He needed to make bank.
> 
> "Hi. Sorry about that. My fault."
> 
> "Don't sweat it, kid. Just quit staring at your feet. You could miss something." Noah remembered winking, probably licked his upper lip, flashed a bit of metal. But then he'd split toward the bathroom and the moment was gone.  
> 

Roth snaps. "Hey. Where'd you go?"

Noah shakes his head. "Nowhere. Just thinking. Really, you're making a big deal out of nothing. I'm just some guy that your friend Luke ran into some afternoon. We had coffee, talked, and he left that thing on the table when he left. No harm, no foul. So give it back to him and I'm going to take off. I have," he looks around, focuses on the clock and not his impending panic attack. "I have somewhere else I should be."

"I bet you do," Roth mutters, swipes his towel over the condensation ring on the table.

"What does that mean?" Noah stands up before he hears the condescension in Roth's voice, the tension in his own jaw. He whirls to glare down at the startled barista. "Look, asshole, I don't know what you think you know about me, but you know nothing. Nothing. Got that? You know I like my coffee dark and I tip well. Anything else? My business. Not yours. We clear." Noah loops his fingers in the frayed cuffs of his hoodie and vows to not get violent. "Why the fuck did I think I'd find answers here? She's fucking dead. I need to move on." He's so intent on growling about self-righteous assholes who don't know how lucky they are that he collides with someone entering the door, shoving the person into someone else.

"We really have to stop meeting like this. People will begin to think things that maybe things aren't over." Luke's laugh is quiet, hesitant. He leans into the man who caught him, pets his cheek. "Thanks Reg. You know I can be a spaz when I'm distracted." Luke frowns, stares at Noah.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get you some caffeine. Maybe it'll balance out whatever weird fit you're having now." The guy with Luke, Reg, holds on to Luke possessively.

Noah can't speak, can't think. Two days ago Luke said he didn't have a boyfriend. Why had Noah trusted him? _Why had he so desperately wanted to trust him?_ Stripped defenseless in one accidental collision of clothed skin over skin, the familiar acid bubbles in his stomach. "Left your tape recorder with me." He nods his head back to the corner. "Roth said he'd get it back to you."

"You know Roth? How the hell do you -?" Layered light dawns in Luke's brown eyes and Noah can't believe he ever thought of this person his own age as a kid. "You're him, aren't you? You're the guy he was talking about that comes in all pissed off but tips like Roth's the coffee god. The hoodie, the hair, everything. He never said, and I just assumed, and I mean, I knew you were here in the morning when ever I came in to write, but I never asked him to point you out, and then. That's just weird. Karmic almost. I can't believe that. We've been talking about you since October when I first noticed you in my class. Before we crashed into each other at Yo's." He frowns again. "But then you never came back, so I thought you must have dropped it. Anyway, no matter. Do you, uh," he glances at Reg, back at Noah. "Do you want to get coffee with us? I could stop babbling." Luke shifts on his ankles, wipes his hands on his jeans.

"Yeah, no. No coffee. No nothing. Just," Noah can't help himself, his itchy fingers brush a lock of hair behind Luke's ear. "Do us both a favor and don't play that tape in front of anyone. Apparently you don't know when to stop with that either." Reckless and pissed off, Noah leans in and lick a stripe up Luke's now exposed neck. "Pretty sure I'm packing up at the end of this month, Ace. But in the mean time, I found myself a new location. Even has coffee, if you call the crap at the convenience store that." He sticks out his chin, glares at Reg, and makes his grand exit. 

Even without meaning to, Luke manages to give Noah another first by freezing in his tracks.


	3. The Interview (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/)**mightyten** for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks.

**Title:** The Interview (Part 4)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/Luke (Noah/OMC  <\-- Noah's a rentboy. These things will happen.)  
 **Rating:** NC-17 for content  
 **Word Count:** 3.5kish  
 **Summary:** A start  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** Thank you so much to [](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/profile)[**mightyten**](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/) for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks.

 

 

 

 

 

"What was _that_ about?"

Luke shakes his head. His neck burns where Noah had licked it. Fucking _licked_ him. "Umm, that was, uhh, something." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Just some guy. I must have left," he looks down at the tape recorder bound tightly in his fingers. "Must have left this with him. No biggie."

Reg fixes Luke with one of his yeah-whatever stares. "Uh huh. Mr. Journalism Major. Mr. I Need A Kick Ass Project To Get That WOAK Internship. You just _left_ your tape recorder there. I swear, you must take that thing to bed with you."

"Hey!" Luke punches Reg's shoulder even while his face flushes. He'd only taken it to bed once, and that had been an accident. _How much had he gotten?_ His dick was half hard. He wanted to be in his room, somewhere, anywhere really, where he could listen to what was on the tape. "Shut up."

"What? Seriously Luke, when was the last time you got laid? I know you still aren't pining over that douchebag ex of yours." Reg keeps his arm around Luke's waist. "Let's get you something to drink. You can tell me who that guy was, and no bullshit this time."

"He's just some guy. I told you. Lay off it, Reg." They make their way to the counter. "Hey Roth. Can I have -"

"Some weird hazelnut-macadamia-caramel-chocolate thing with whipped creams and sprinkles?" Roth grins and winks. "Saw the floor show at the door and thought you might need this." He passes it over, whipped cream elaborately decorated with rainbow sprinkles. "You'll like it, blasphemer of all things coffee." His smile falters. "Hi Reg. Large coffee, seven and seven right?"

"You're an ass, Roth." Luke dips his finger into the top of his drink and threatens to smear it on his friend's nose. "But you know I love you anyway."

"Speaking of ..." Roth cocks his head.

Luke hurries to interrupt. "Not now. Later. We'll find time later." Without Reg. Without anyone. Because Roth will understand. _I may never wash my neck again._ "Reg and I need to plan our world domination, starting with WOAK. If you get a break, come join?"

"Sure thing." He hands off a tall ceramic mug to Reg. "That'll be two fifty."

Reg frowns, but drops money on the counter. "Whatever man. Keep the change." Luke barely has time to make a what-the-fuck face at Roth before he's being dragged over to a table. "What's his damage? Someone piss in his cereal this morning?"

"Don't worry about it. He and I just need to talk. It's nothing. Come on, focus Reg. Ignore Roth. I'm serious about WOAK world domination. I want this so bad."

"Sure helps when your mom owned part of it, and you're fucking related to the anchors." Reg slurps at his coffee, makes a face. "Jesus, does Roth burn this twice before pouring it? Seriously, what the fuck? This is disgusting." He shudders. "It's like licking the bottom of a toaster."

"And you would know this _how_ , precisely?" Luke wonders.

"Shut up and hand over the girly shit." Reg swipes Luke's cup, sucks deep from the straw. "That almost takes the edge off." He glares at the counter where Roth watches them. "Swear to god, Luke, he does this shit on purpose."

"Of course he does, Baby." Luke pats Reg's hand. "The big mean old Roth just wants to serve you bitter coffee." The bitch of it is, Reg doesn't know how right he is. Luke tries not to laugh, bites his cheeks, thinks of starving puppies. It works a little. He knows they never got along. He doesn't pry, doesn't want to know the dirty secret that causes such a rift between those two. "Do you want me to get you a new cup. Would that help?"

Reg pouts. "Would you?"

"Yes." He holds out his hand. "As long as you promise to take this seriously. I want the internship. Now how are we going to get it?"

 

*****

Noah jams his hands in his pockets. "Shit, shit, shit." It's been three hours since he left Java and _still_. He leans against the brick of his new wall. He should get coffee, he knows that. Something to warm him up would be good. But nothing, _nothing_ at all, can offset the flavor of salt and sweet skin tingling on his goddamned tongue. He scuffs his heel and hopes that the test run of his new spot will be good.

"Hey, you got a light?"

He's shorter than Noah. A little too slick, too expensive. _Rent!_ Noah flips his Zippo from his back pocket. "I do indeed." He peels himself from the wall slowly, lets the guy get a good long look. He lets his eyes rake over dark hair, stocky muscles, the EMT jacket. "Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking was bad for you?" He laughs from low in his throat. "Surely in your profession ..." Noah runs his tongue over his upper lip, while he flicks the lighter between his fingers and pops it open. "Come out of the wind a minute, it'll make it easier."

The guy smiles. "Bet it will. The wind's a bitch tonight. Made driving the truck awful." He holds the cigarette between his teeth and leans into the flame between Noah's cupped hands.

Watching the first deep breath has Noah aching for a puff, and the exhale? The cloying sweet burn of clove cigarettes fills his nostrils and has him practically drooling. He doesn't even bother to hide his sigh. "You drive the ambulance? Man, I don't envy your job at all. Must be really stressful. I've always admired guys who can do something like that. I don't know how you sleep at night." And okay, yeah, maybe he's laying it on a bit thick, but this guy looks like just the type to appreciate that.

"Nothing like a warm body to make it all go away, but normally it's just me, some jazz and a cosmo." He steps toward Noah. "What about you? What are you doing out here? All alone, on a night like tonight. Don't you have someone at home? A pretty thing waiting with dinner on the table?"

"Nah, not me. I'm doing my part for the world right now. Trying to help de-stress those who need to concentrate." His voice is slow, but his point is obvious.

The tip of the cigarette glows bright. "How much?"

It's all business. "Depends on what you want."

"Drivers don't make enough for a room. And anyway, I gotta get back soon. This is only my fifteen. Shifts not over yet."

Noah slinks them both further into the alley. "And there's only about seven minutes left of that fifteen. So again, I'll say, what do you want?"

"Want that smart mouth of yours to suck me dry. Got a hundred bucks. That gonna cut it?" The guy drops the cigarette butt, rubs it out under his foot.

"First time discount. It'll only cost you $75." Noah is on his knees in a minute. He pulls a packet of lube and a rubber. "Hey. My fingers are cold, you want to warm them or suit yourself up?"

Noah holds up his fingers. They're a little chapped from the chill, but he'll take care of them later and actually get some gloves. The client opens his mouth, snakes a tongue around the nails, the pads, swallows three fingers like he's a professional sword swallower. Noah moans, like he's supposed to. "So hot. Thanks."

The guy's cock throbs against the zipper. Noah doesn't waste time on a show. The guy is standing, leaning over him, one hand braces him on the wall, and the other on Noah's head. "Come on. Come _on_." Need and urgency threaded through his hoarse whisper. Noah lubes him quickly, slips the condom over and opens his mouth. He maps out the vein in the underside of the guy's cock with his piercing, knows it's effective when the guy swears.

Noah slides off once the guy is whimpering, sloppy and noisy. "That all you got? All that control over the ambulance? All that stress? And you're gonna make me do all the work? Man, do it. Fuck my mouth. Let it out." He lathes his tongue across the uncut head and into the slit. Noah leans back, eases his jaw, his throat and waits.

The guy gets the hint. He holds onto Noah's head with both hands. _Almost as good as earmuffs_ , Noah thinks, before he's allowing himself to be moved. Who needs a chiropractor when someone can crack your neck like that? He makes the appropriate noises, laps where the guy seems to like it, and it's under five minutes before the tip of the condom is filling with warm come and his client is shouting some random name. Noah mouths gently at the cherry latex he prefers for blow jobs, letting the lube and come work the aftershocks out.

His client waits a moment, tries to breathe. "You in this part of Oakdale often?"

Noah nods as he stands. "The alley looked like it needed company. And the coffee across the street doesn't suck as much as it could." He carefully peels off the rubber, careful to not get any of the fluids on him. He takes a wipe out of his pocket, and cleans the guy off. "If you're gonna be here again, around this time, you should maybe look me up again. The name's Jake." Noah stuffs all his trash in one of the plastic sandwich bags he carries. "Good luck with the rest of your shift."

The guy runs his thumb over Noah's jaw. "Not sure what you see in Oakdale, Jake, but if you're here, I'll be back. Count on it." He reaches for his wallet. "Here. Take the hundred. You can offer me that discount some other time. Go get that coffee."

"Will do." Noah pockets the money, watches while the guy leaves the alley. He calculates. If he can stick to just giving head, things should be fine. He needs to get something to keep his knees warmer. Bring some cardboard or a blanket back here. Cardboard would be more subtle. He runs his tongue over his teeth. The saccharine sweet of fake cherry is there, but even after that, some other flavor rides along, just a hint really. Maybe the coffee will burn his taste buds right off and everything will go back to normal?

*****

"I knew I'd find you here."

Noah spits coffee on the sidewalk.

"Well, okay, that's not quite true. I knew you needed to be near one of the five convenience stores. They all serve shitty coffee by definition, so that didn't really help, you know, to narrow things down." Luke leans into the wall, crosses his arms, stares at the neon lit OPEN sign across the street. "It's fucking freezing out here, Noah. What are you doing?"

Noah sips at his drink, allows his fingers to clutch the warmth through the thick paper. They heat is too much, but the punishing burn is somehow comforting. "What do you _think_ I'm doing? And hey, if you could just leave, there's some man over there who keeps checking me out. Just because you're in school, doesn't mean the rest of us don't have to work."

"How do you know I'm not here for that?" Luke's voice is a quiet challenge.

"You're not."

"You don't know that."

Noah moves to stand in front of Luke, forcing their eyes to meet. "Yeah, kid. I do. I do know that because I was there earlier in the week. I was there when you watched me, when you touched me, when you had your tongue in my ass. I was there when I said your name. And I -" He gulps at his coffee. "Look. You're just not. You're a good guy, and that one lie about being single aside, you don't want to be with me. It was good, better than good even, but I'm not gonna come between you and your boyfriend."

Luke pauses in the process of peeling off his gloves. "My boyfriend? What on earth?" He frowns. "I came out here looking for you, Noah. I wanted to, I don't know, thank you for returning my tape recorder. And -"

"And?" Noah drags out the word, slow, teasing. He shouldn't. He knows it, but he

"And, what the fuck, Noah? What was that? You? Me? _Your tongue? My neck?_ " He waves his hands between them. "At Java?" He throws his gloves at Noah. "Put these on. Jesus, you're making me cold. And fucking answer me. Or is this not ringing a bell?"

Noah catches the gloves with one hand, nearly spills his coffee with the other. He hands Luke the cup and wiggles his fingers into the warm wool. His stomach hurts. "Was gonna get some after ..." He looks at Luke, stares him straight in the eyes and hopes he gets it this time. He clears his throat. "I was going to go buy gloves after the next shift at the hospital starts, because tricks are more likely to happen at shift change. And I know that, and I'm waiting, because I'm a whore, Luke. That's what I do." Noah throws the cup at the brick wall far enough away not to splash either of them, listens to the wet splash and the empty echo of the plastic lid as it rolls to the ground. "I'm sorry about what I did at Java. It wasn't fair. Not to you, and not to me. I just, I, I _wanted_ something different. And I'm so fucking mad at you. You're like Lucifer, all lies and forked tongue behind the most beautiful face in the world."

Noah crowds Luke against the wall. He doesn't know how or why, just knows it's _really_ important that he understand, and stepping into Luke's space seems like the best way. " _You_ sat down at my table where I was minding my own business. _You_ struck up conversation like I was just some guy you wanted to get to know. _You_ did all of that, and then slipped in that little bit of information about how you knew who I was, what I did, and could you interview me, please. I thought, I don't even know what I thought, but it sure as hell wasn't that." He takes off the gloves, cannot keep them, cannot wear them. His eyes sting with angry tears. Noah balls up the wool and carefully slips one glove into each of Luke's jacket's side front pockets. He leaves his fingers fisted in the material. "So if I fucked up your perfect chance at the perfect life with your perfect new hipster boyfriend, then I don't really care right now. I'm going to be at Java's every morning because Roth makes the best damn coffee, and then I'm going to be here in my new damn alley. And when my regulars schedule, I'll be at my damn apartment, in the damn bed where you fucked me just like them. Only maybe worse. Because you weren't supposed to be just like them." Noah's breath is hot and each word comes out in its own visible puff. His chest presses up against Luke's. Their legs intertwine. He's so angry he can't see straight and so he waits. He inhales and exhales loudly and leaves his body meshed with Luke, makes Luke deal with everything he should have and some old baggage of Noah's he should never have to see.

*****

Luke shudders at Noah's deliberate steps. He hears the words but they don't quite compute. And then Noah is there, right up against him, and it's every spark that was there for months but more because Luke _knows_. Luke knows about piercings and tattoos and loneliness so close to the surface that it just broke across him like the waves of a tsunami. He knows all of that, and he knows what Noah does, but he doesn't care. Not with this much passion daring him, taunting him to his face.

He fists Noah's hoodie and yanks him forward. Their teeth clank and he laps at Noah's piercing when he opens his mouth on a gasp. Part of him wants soft, wants romance, but the smarter part knows that's not going to happen right now. Luke circles the sharpness of Noah's teeth, the rough warmth of his tongue and that shaft of metal that makes him all the more hard. He drags his mouth back, wet with saliva and need, drags Noah's lower lip between his teeth to bite it before sweeping his way back into Noah's mouth. Noah is coffee and anger with a hint of something fruity and chemical. The taste jolts a scent-memory and Luke realizes that he is not the only man to have been with Noah in this alley tonight.

He pushes Noah away, licks at his own lips. "Fuck."

"That pretty much sums it up." Noah crouches down, wraps his arms around his knees while balancing on his feet.

"No, I mean, I can taste them, him, someone. You taste like latex." Luke licks his lips again. "Strawberry maybe and latex? You were blowing someone before I got here."

"Cherry. It was cherry. And yes, Kid, that's my job." Noah stares at Luke's feet. They're small for the rest of him. Apparently the assumption about foot size being proportional is a myth, because the rest of Luke was just not like that.

Luke kneels down next to Noah, covers his hands. "Stop. I thought we were past 'kid' when I offered to bankroll your rent? I get it. Okay. I get what you do. I know what your job is. But I don't think that's you, and I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry if I made you feel like that's what you are." He unloops his scarf, wraps it around Noah's neck, flops the ends around him. "It's freezing out, and you at least made some money tonight. Go home for now Noah, please. Go home, and we can both think about this. About what we want. Can you," he swallows. He has no right to ask for this. "Can you do that for me?"

Noah holds the scarf to his nose, sniffs at it. "No. I can't. I'm sorry. I need the money. But, if it's true. If you mean it, or think you do, then I'll meet you for coffee in the morning, on Friday."

Luke's stomach sinks. He wants to argue. He wants to take Noah home, feed him chicken soup and read him children's books. But he can't. "Yeah, okay. Friday morning. Is nine good? I've got chores to do in the morning."

"Nine is great." Noah stands up. "Go away now. Don't look back. Okay? Because I'm still gonna be here once you turn the corner."

"Yeah," Luke frowns. "I get it." He yanks his scarf, wrapped around Noah, and tongues his way into his mouth one last time. "Friday?"

"You're not getting this scarf back," Noah whispers to Luke's departing back

Luke's laugh echoes behind him. "Who said I want to? It looks better on you."  


[And still more](http://nouveau-monday.livejournal.com/24845.html)


	4. The Interview (Part 5a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you have a first date after you've already had sex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/)**mightyten** for being the bestest beta ever. Seriously, she save my ass all the time. I'm so grateful. Also, there's supposed to be another part to this but I didn't get it posted. I'm typing as fast as I can, but i wanted to get something out tonight.

**Title:** The Interview (Part 5a)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/Luke  
 **Rating:** PG-13; bad language only  
 **Word Count:** 4.8kish  
 **Summary:** Can you have a first date after you've already had sex?  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** Thank you so much to [](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/profile)[**mightyten**](http://mightyten.livejournal.com/) for being the bestest beta ever. Seriously, she save my ass all the time. I'm so grateful. Also, there's supposed to be another part to this but I didn't get it posted. I'm typing as fast as I can, but i wanted to get something out tonight.

 

 

 

Luke sticks his tongue out at his cell phone. "You're not helping."

"What am I supposed to say? According to Roth, this guy dresses like a reject from Fall Out Boy. And hey, when did you go all emo for boys like Pete Wentz anyway? I thought that was my job?"

"Don't change the subject, Faith. Be a good little sister and stop hitting on Roth. He's still gay. I know you could convert almost anyone, but trust me. You won't this time. _Not_ him. If nothing else because he isn't all goth and shit. I don't know that he owns a single black item of clothing." He ran his hands through his hair. "And speaking of clothes, which was the point of this call in the first place, what should I wear tomorrow?"

"For coffee at 9am? I don't know? Maybe a sign that says I'm desperate and haven't had sex in a long time and clearly can't even dress myself in a closet? How about that?"

Faith's laugh, tinny over the cell speaker, makes Luke wince. He flips through hanger after hanger in his closet. _Why the fuck is everything I own striped?_ "Thanks for nothing. Not that it's any of your business, but I so have had sex recently. Just because you broke up with that wannabe Draco Malfoy does not mean I'm not allowed to get any. We're siblings, not the same person." He squeezes his eyes shut. Bringing up his younger sister's last boyfriend was probably _not_ a good idea when he wanted her advice. "Hey, can you explain to me when I started looking like an Old Navy billboard. How did I miss that every single thing I own is striped? Seriously Faith, every single thing."

"Even your underwear?"

He thinks for a moment, opens the button, pulls down the zipper. "Yes. Even my freaking boxer briefs are striped. How have I dressed like this forever and not really noticed it before?" He slinks to the floor, wraps his hands around his knees. "He's going to think I'm the biggest idiot in the entire world."

"Well then screw him. If he can't tell immediately that you're the bestest guy in the whole wide world, he's obviously not worth your time. Why would you waste your effort on him?"

Luke doesn't respond.

"Luke, honestly, stop this. You're hot. You know it. Roth knows it. Even stupid Reg knows it. This faux-Fall Out Boy better love you or I'm going to kick his ass." She giggles. "And let's not even think about Natalie. Can you imagine? She'd take him out with her field hockey stick, and bring the rest of the team to help. And those girls? They're scary. Most of them are bigger than Dad, some might be bigger than Uncle Brad." She pauses. "Also, you have a great sweater with stripes in two shades of blue, white and black. Wear that. It's hot. I should know. I bought it for you. And make sure your jeans show off your ass. That should help."

"It is _so very_ wrong to have my sister talking about my ass." Luke surges off the floor to grab for the stripes Faith described.

"Yeah, well, don't get me involved in your random fashion emergencies. Hello, last I checked, you were the gay one? Quit worrying. It's just coffee."

"Right. Just coffee. Thanks Faith."

"That's what I'm here for. Try and get some sleep. It's after midnight and I've got an early class. You'll be fine, Luke. Promise."

He stares at his phone for a second, hopes desperately that his sister is right. He would take her along to meet Noah, but wouldn't be able to explain it all. And chances are, bringing your baby sister to meet the prostitute you interviewed, screwed, and then met in an alley and wanted to blow ... probably not the best idea. Luke plugs his phone into its charger, checks the alarm is set on it, and then peels off his clothes. He makes sure his regular alarm is set to go off an hour earlier than usual, slides under his covers grateful for the handmade quilts his grandmother made him over the years.

*****

Noah slaps his arm against the backslash of the shower, lets uncomfortably hot water coat his skin, cleanse him of his night's work. His safe holds enough for rent. He rescinded his two week notice of intent to evacuate, and hopes that the landlord hasn't already found a new tenant. Within the steam and heat of the shower, Noah owns up to the fact that it isn't just questions about his mother keeping him here. He could get his answers just as easily in Chicago. But if Oakdale was cold this time of year, imagine the brutality of the Windy City? Especially without Luke. He flops his head onto his arms. He's so screwed, hasn't connected with someone in years. Not since Arizona - Mesa - and Juan. He shivers. _Not the time to think about him. Clear your mind. Try to forget. Stop it!_

He loses himself in the memories of skinny fingers clamoring at him in the sunlight-hot brick burning his skin through his shirt, while his legs wrapped around hard muscle. The roughness of denim from jeans barely undone rubbing against the back of his thighs. And Juan, Juan who whispered endearments into his ears in Spanish, promised to make an honest man out of Noah some day, even as Juan had fucked into Noah making him feel it for blissful days. All that before Juan had been shot down on the street for a heroine sale gone wrong, or because daddy didn't want a faggot son, it was never clear to Noah, and he hadn't stuck around to find out.

The memories evaporate as the water turns cold. It is only by gritting his teeth that he washes his hair. Thoughts of a 9am coffee date and frozen wet hair does not appeal. Plus, he needs to sleep for at least a little while. Noah wraps a towel around his hips, grabs another to dry off his hair. From the small cabinet behind the mirror he grabs a bottle of black nailpolish. He grins as he heads toward the kitchen area of his studio apartment. Noah's shoulders relax as he has survived yet another attack of his brain remembering what his heart wishes it wouldn't.

Noah grabs a bottle of water and heads toward his bed. His small stereo sits on the bedside table next to his alarm clock. He hits the play button, realizes he needs to make another copy before this one gets destroyed from repeated wear.

> "What do you want to know?"
> 
> "Well, how did you get into ... this? It's not everyday someone grows up and says, 'You know what? Think I'm going to go out and, well, umm -"
> 
> "Get paid by guys to take it up the ass?"
> 
> There is a sound of coughing. "Yeah. If that's, if that's ... Hey, if that's cool. I didn't want to offend you. Didn't want to presume what you did. Or, umm, who you did it with." 

Noah sits on the bed. He shakes the small bottle in his hand until the metal ball inside rattles, smirks at the embarrassment and shock evident in Luke's voice. He still can't figure out what changed, but his heart pounds and his fingers shake when it happens. Luke's attitude shifted. He can close his eyes and remember it.

Noah tunes in and out of their voices as he slides the dark polish over his nails. He doesn't know what to expect from tomorrow, from his stupid idea to meet Luke for coffee, but he figures he better go in prepared. His stomach flip flops. He can almost taste the innocent intensity of Luke's mouth, past the synthetic cherry and latex, past the mouthwash and gum, past Roth's coffee. He waits for the first hand to dry and concentrates once again on the tape he had accidentally helped to make.

>   
> "I don't have a boyfriend right now. I'd never cheat on someone. Who do you think I am?"
> 
> "Dude. I think you're the guy that just paid a whore to get him off. Speaking of, are we going to get on to that any time soon?"
> 
> "Now. So done with talking. And don't call yourself that." Another pause, a fumbling of clothes. "Up."
> 
> "Where'd that come from?"
> 
> "Somewhere. Nowhere. I don't remember."
> 
> "Same for these ones?"
> 
> "Yeah. It was awhile ago." Even if Luke hadn't been able to hear it, Noah could hear the fear in his throat. "Years even."
> 
> "What about these?" 

He can't help but wonder if Luke listened to the tape. If he played it over and over again, used it instead of any other legal or illegal sleeping aid. Noah shakes his head. _Stop obsessing, idiot._ His other hand is now finished and he waits for them both to dry enough that he can sleep.

>   
>  Noah can't believe he whimpered, but Luke had caught him off guard. "When I was seventeen. I traded blowjobs with a friend who had just gotten his piercing license."
> 
> "Body modification as business investment?"
> 
> "No, Mr. Reporter." He coughed. "No. Those were just for me. Not a lot of call for whores to get off. It's not really about my needs. This one, this was a business investment. Couldn't give head for nearly a month, but the money since then? Totally worth it. Get that rubber on and I'll show you what this baby's good for. I've been told it's a whole new world."
> 
> "Wait, no." Then the sound of skin on skin. "I don't want you to blow me."
> 
> "You don't?"
> 
> "Okay, shit. Yes, all right? Yes I _do_ very much want you to blow me. I'd love it. But really, I want what I said in the first place. I want to fuck you. Hard. Now."
> 
> "How do you want me?" Noah can hear his response, immediate, willing to serve.
> 
> "On your knees, I guess."

Noah chugs most of his water, listens to himself moaning and squirming, the slap of skin on skin. He tucks himself under his blankets, flips off the light, leaves his drink within easy reach in case he wakes up. He yawns, stretches, and is dead to the world before the tape finishes. He wakes up enough to hear the end of it, drops back under before the recording of his tears is audible.

>   
> "Didn't you hear me the first time? I said to leave. Tricks don't get to stay the night unless I say so and unless they buy the room. This isn't the fucking Lakeview and you didn't pay. Take your money, hell, take the whole fucking bankroll and get out of here"
> 
> "I don't understand? What just happened? Noah? How did I screw this up? Explain it to me?"
> 
> "There's nothing to explain. You sat down for coffee at Java. I thought, I don't know, I thought maybe you were interested. And instead, it turns out you know who I am, what I do, and now. Now you need to get the fuck out of here so I can vomit and take a shower and maybe puke again. So thanks, kid, for a spectacular orgasm. Take your money and get the fuck out."
> 
> "This isn't over" Luke left the apartment.
> 
> "Wanna bet?" Noah vomited, paused, and eventually the sound of water running indicated the start of his shower.

*****

Luke's chores are complete. He's showered. His homework is done and packed up ready to leave. He drums his fingers on the top of the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room area and stares into space. No one is around, much to his over all relief, but he could use a distraction. Anything really, to remind himself that there is life outside of freaking out about a date, _was it even a date?_ , well, a whatever it was, at a strange hour of the morning with someone he had chemistry with, but that's all he knew.

He picks up his cell, flips it open, closes it again. Luke can't call Noah and ask him to meet him somewhere else, some place else, anything really, to make it sooner or later or different. He doesn't know how to reach him. He debates calling Roth and begging him to set Java on fire, but that seems dangerous and unproductive. _Fuck._ If he walksinto town and doesn't drive, he may freeze to death, but it will take awhile. And if he gets there a little early that'll be okay, right? Not too tacky or desperate?

Luke almost convinces himself when he gets beeped with a text message:  
 _  
Didn't u say date  
@ 9? @ java now.  
Scaring customers.  
Come ASAP.  
_  
He grabs his keys and a random scarf off the communal coat rack and heads to his car. Every second the car takes to heat up, every moment he scrapes the ice, Luke's mind struggles to focus. He wishes dates were choreographed for you. Give him a script and he would be much better.

Luke speeds toward Java and a social situation that has rapidly spun out of his control, unsure of what he wants to have happen. More unsure of if he cares or not, as long as it involves Noah.

The streets are relatively empty. Most people choose wisely to sleep in or otherwise hibernate for the winter. Fortunately Oakdale believes in plowing and sanding, so Luke makes solid time. He paces out of view from Java for a few minutes. What should Luke say? do? How will Noah react? A kiss? They kissed. Hell, they'd _fucked_. But Luke hadn't tasted latex when he was inside Noah, had been able to fool himself briefly. What the hell was going on? _Could_ something go on with Luke knowing what Noah did? "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He curses. He can't help it. _What the fuck is he going to do?_

He inhales, coughs on the cold air, exhales. Luke can do this. He can walk into Java slowly, like he just got there a little bit early and then be surprised that Noah is already there and so fucking gorgeous that Luke wants to pin him against a wall and beg him to let them go do naughty things. _Christ. Not helping yourself, Snyder. So not helping yourself._ He glares at his bodies more than enthusiastic hard-on and attempts to gracefully enter the coffee shop.

His eyes zip across Java. There are fewer people than he normally sees at the tables, but a longer line at the counter. The music pipes retro-swing quietly through its speakers. Luke barely has time to catch Roth's eye, before he sees his friend gesturing him toward the section of Java hidden behind the counter. "He's here?" Luke mouths in a silent question. The deliberate nod and smile of his friend eases one of the million bands of tension around his chest.

Luke sidles up to where Noah hides in the corner. "So I guess we're both more morning people than we thought?"

"Mmph?"

"Ooooookay. Let me rephrase that, guess I'm more of a morning person that I might have had you believe, and I guess you're just being nice because clearly eloquence in the morning is not your forte."

Noah swallows another mouthful of black coffee. "Had a long night last night. Needed to ... uhhh ... well ... had a long night is all. Hi. Good morning."

Luke grins. "That's better. Almost human. Let me just order, and I'll be right back. Want a refill?" He peels off his jacket, drops it on the back of the chair.

"Refill is on the way, as is your strange whipped cream and sprinkled drink of choice. Sit down. They'll be right over." Noah pushes out Luke's chair somehow from under the table. "Roth said he'd be over in just a minute." He pulls his hood off his head, winks at Luke. "Pretty sure I saw him texting someone as soon as I came in the door with my usual demand. That someone wouldn't have been you, would it?"

Luke attempts to cover his face, hide his blush. "Maybe?" He squeaks. "I kinda warned him that we might be here this morning and that I didn't want to pussy out so if I was running late he should text me."

Noah frowns, and Luke wants to kick himself. " _You_ thought _you_ would pussy out? You didn't _want_ to come?" He stands. "Listen Ace, I don't have to be here. I can head back to my apartment, wait until things warm up a bit, maybe be wild and take in a movie."

"No, wait, nothing like that. I wasn't, I didn't mean, can you just? Sit, please? Sit." Luke tugs at his sweater while Noah sits back down. _How did Faith talk him into stripes?_ "I didn't say I didn't _want_ to be here, I said I was _afraid_. That's totally different. I haven't been on a ... date ... in a long time, and I don't even know if that's what this is? I'm out of my element, and I tend to, uh, maybe babble a little too much when I'm nervous?"

Two mugs thump down in front of them. "He tends to babble when he's nervous, when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's angry, when he's hungry, when they sky is blue, when it's grey. Basically he just likes to babble. Ignore him if he tries to tell you it's only once in awhile." Roth smiles. "And you? You threw off my whole routine what with almost being pleasant. Scared all the customers. They thought you might _not_ bite on approach. They were looking for signs of the apocalypse and wondering if there was the start of a new world order. Are you ill?"

"Roth!" Luke looks at his friend and wonders if a hole could open under his chair and swallow him. "Man, shut _up_. What are you doing?" He goes to say more but is cut off by Noah's laugh. It's rough, unsteady with what Luke would guess is lack of use, and one of the sexiest sounds he's ever heard.

"It was a long night. But I heard somewhere that a guy catches more hotties with honey than vinegar, so I thought I'd give it a shot." Noah winks at Roth, flips the jet bead on his tongue stud across his lips. "Didn't mean to scare anyone, unless that means I get to hold your hand for awhile?"

Luke frowns at the pink that burns at Roth's cheeks and ears. He blinks again, surprised at just how turned on he is by his own sense of jealousy. "Roth, go away. Stop letting my pseudo-date flirt with you. Go find your own." He turns to Noah. "Hey, you changed the ball."

"Sure did."

Luke swallows. His eyes are caught in the brilliant blue of Noah's gaze, for the first time Luke takes in the rest of him. He's got a smudge of black eyeliner under his eyes. The fingers wrapped around the bright red mug sport black polish. _Maybe there was more than a passing resemblance to the dude, Pete Wentz?_ He sits on his hands to stop from brushing them across Noah's cheekbones, across his gorgeous throat.

"I can take a hint. See ya later today, Luke? Maybe I'll convince you into drinking coffee like a real man." Roth grabs Noah's used mug. "You can work on him. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He walks away with a smile on his face.

"So, umm, did you change the ball on _all_ your stuff, or just your tongue?"

Noah raises his eyebrow. "Want to find out, Ace?"

"God, you have _no idea_ , do you? No clue at all what you do to me? What you've been doing to me for _months_ now?" Luke licks at the whipped cream and sprinkles on his caramel mocha. "Seriously. You can't just say something like that _here_." He waves his spoon around to punctuate his sentence.

"Why not? What's wrong with here?"

Noah looks ready to bolt again, and Luke kicks himself. _Note to self: be more precise with your language._ "Nothing's wrong with here, except that I can't get you naked and check out your piercings on the table at Java. For one, the tables are too small. For another, it would be stupidly unsanitary and Roth would have a fit. Lastly, I'm pretty sure that public indecency could slap us both in jail, and I'd rather not try that."

"It's not so bad. Roof over your head, three squares. If it's only minimum security, I've lived in worse shitholes whoring myself around." Noah twists his mug between his fingers, stares into the murky liquid that makes Luke shudder just to think about drinking it.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. That's my stupid mouth moving before my brain catches up." He licks at his whipped cream again, slurps noisily at the drink underneath the foam. "Can I ask you a question? Not an interview one, just, you know, curiosity." He plunges forward before Noah answers. "How did you wind up in Oakdale? This place isn't exactly a thriving metropolis. And we have this awful winter. Why aren't you in LA, or Miami, or Phoenix or, hell, I don't know, New Orleans? Surely the warmth would make things easier."

"You'd be surprised." Noah's jaw tightens at the mentioned Arizona. Luke wonders why, but doesn't want to pry into something so obviously painful on a first maybe-date. "I got reasons to be here. Stuff I need to figure out." He stares over Luke's shoulder. "Hey, how well do you know WOAK?"

"Okay, random much? Why do you want to know about the station?"

Noah shrugs. "Need to look up some news from awhile ago. Thought maybe I'd catch it here, as long as the studio keeps tapes or video back up, or something. Need to check the local newspaper as well, but I was hoping for some video, some sound." He slugs another hit of coffee.

Luke grins. "I've interned at WOAK since I was just out of high school." He arches an eyebrow. "You psychic, or just lucky? I could take you there, get you into the archives if that's what you need. I gotta pick something up there anyway, so this kills two birds with one stone." He clamps his mouth shut, wants to slap himself. "Not that you're a bird, or that you need to be killed, or anything. I just meant that it would be easy for me to help, and it would help me, y'know, so that would be good. Not that hanging out with just for the sake of hanging out isn't good, that's not what I mean either, I just ..." He hangs his head. "Shutting up now."

Noah tips his head back as he laughs. "Roth wasn't kidding. You really don't know when to stop." He reaches out a hand, places it carefully over Luke's on the table. Luke thinks he may die on the spot, electrical shock by way of gorgeous male. "I understood what you were saying. I know I'm a sensitive queen sometimes, but I understand the idea of helping yourself while helping me." His smile wobbles slightly. "Trust me. That's a concept I'm intimately familiar with."

"Yeah, but fuck, see, that's not what I meant at all then. I'd love to take you to WOAK. It's one of my favorite places. My mom used to own part of it. I practically grew up there. I'd take you there even if I didn't need to grab an application. It'll be awesome. You'll see. For real. When do you want to go?" Luke is all but bouncing out of his seat like an overgrown puppy. He's itchy with unspoken need and isn't sure how much longer he can wait to get his mouth on Noah.

"Can I finish my coffee, Ace? And then, umm, I need to pick something up at my apartment." He pauses. Their eyes meet and Luke swallows. Luke's jerked off so much in the last week thinking about Noah's apartment that his wrists hurt. "Or, umm, I could meet you somewhere at a better time, if that would be good. I don't want you to miss classes or whatever it is you college boys do on a Friday morning."

Luke releases the breath he hasn't realized he's holds. "I'd love to go to your apartment." To make himself appear not quite as desperate as Faith had implied, he adds quickly, "Anyway, no one expects seniors to go to Friday morning classes unless they're retarded." Luke puts his drink to his mouth before he begs Noah to put himself there. _No scaring him. No scaring Noah until we know what this is._

"Okay then." Noah pounds the rest of his coffee. "Let me settle up with Roth and I'll be right back."

*****

"Thanks for the to-go. How did you know I liked white hot chocolate? It's one of my favorites, but I thought only my family knew. It's not hard to find necessarily, but most of it sucks. Java doesn't hold a candle to my grandmother's, but that's okay. It's still really good."

Noah bites his lip. _Jesus, the kid really doesn't know when to stop babbling._ "I always get one to go, figured I'd do the same for you." He shrugs. "Guess Roth is part of your family?"

Luke laughs. "He wishes." He bumps his hip into Noah's. "Naw, nothing like that. We went out, like, twice. Freshman year. It was awful. We're so much better as friends. Trust me."

Noah frowns, rubs his hip to wipe away the strange tingling feeling, tries to imagine Roth and Luke as a couple. "So you two don't ..." He gestures with his hand. "Are you sure? Because he seems pretty protective of you."

"Totally sure." Luke steps into Noah's space. "I told you. I don't have a boyfriend. I haven't had a boyfriend in far too long. Will you trust me on that?"

"Oddly enough, I do." Noah blinks. He does trust Luke. There's no rhyme or reason to it, but he does. The nail polish, the eyeliner, the gel in his hair, all of that should have clued Noah into the fact that he was hiding himself, determined to keep up the wall. What the hell was he doing taking Luke back to his apartment? He tugs at the striped scarf around his neck. "Are you sure you don't have somewhere else you need to be?"

"Again, totally sure. Why? Would you, umm, I mean, would it be better if I did have an elsewhere?" He grabs Noah's hand that isn't holding the coffee. "I _can_ go somewhere, if that would be better. I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I'd rather it didn't start by you being uncomfortable. That would be dumb on my part."

Noah sighs. "And a little too late," he mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing." He goes to flick his hood up, but realizes that would mean separating his fingers from Luke's. "I'm good. Come on. We're almost there and I'm freezing my nipples off."

"Maybe if you hadn't shoved metal through them, they wouldn't be so sensitive?" Luke falls into step with Noah.

"I didn't hear you complaining, Ace. And if I recall our earlier conversation, pretty sure you wanted to see if all the balls in my jewelry had been changed. Did you change your mind." Easy, uncomplicated flirting. Noah could do _that_ with the best of them. He _could_ keep his distance.

Luke shudders. "I told you not to say that where you can't back it up, or I can't back you up, or something. It's not fair."

"Dude. You're whining. Seriously. Go back to babbling." Noah stands at the lobby door. His keys are in his pocket, but that means taking his hand back. "Anyway, we're here. You coming up, or gonna wait in the lobby?"

"I'd love to come up. If you wouldn't mind?"

"If you start to freak, I'll kick you out. I'm good with that one." Noah's fingers don't like the cold after Luke's body heat, but even with some shivers, he gets the front door unlocked. "Not always tactful, but good."

"That's not necessarily the word I would use. Effective maybe? Effective might work better."  


[ On to 5b](http://nouveau-monday.livejournal.com/26620.html)


	5. The Interview (Part 5b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the scene of the crime, as it were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

RB - Interview #5b

**Title:** The Interview (Part 5b)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/Luke  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Word Count:** 2.7kish  
 **Summary:** Back at the scene of the crime, as it were.  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

 

 

 

Luke knows his way up the cold, hard stairs that lead to the flickering light that reminds him of a hotel in a cheap horror movie. His pulse beats loud and fast in his ears. "Are you sure about this? I can," he gestures back toward the stairs. "Can wait, somewhere? Meet you back at Java?" His hand goes instinctively to his back pocket. Luke isn't sure when he started carrying a ridiculous amount of extra cash, but it burns a hole into his skin as he knows he's about to revisit where it first all went down.

"It's fine. I need my backpack and some other stuff for later." Noah stops at his door. "If it'd be easier. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I don't know if this helps, but I, well, the only client who's ever been here is you. I don't bring tricks here, don't want strangers to know where I live."

The door swings open. Noah enters, but Luke can't get his feet to move. "Never?" his voice breaks.

"Nope. Never. Regardless of what I may have told you before. It's safer that way. Keeps boundaries where they should be. My regulars book rooms or have hideaways." Luke admires Noah's ass, tries to control his desire to tip Noah over the sofa and dive into him. "Ha! Found it! Knew I wasn't out of warming gel." Noah stands up, holds the bottle tight, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Warming gel? What's that - oh." Luke stares at the plastic bottle more carefully and understands. "Probably important in this weather, huh?" He shifts on his ankles.

"It certainly can't hurt. Usually gets me a decent tip or some repeaters, at least. And repeaters usually tip better or want more services in the long run. So that works best for me." Noah looks at the bottle, tucks it into the front of his backpack.

"That makes sense. I guess." Luke rests his hand on his stomach to stop the hollow ache. "have you been making enough? I mean, do you get enough jobs in this weather?"

Noah sits on his bed, pats at the spot next to him. "If people want it, they're gonna get it. I provide a commodity, no different from Roth really."

Luke steps closer to the bed. Noah's _wrong_ , but how can he explain that? Roth sells coffee, not his body. "Is it bad if I don't like it?" He chews at his lip, doesn't want to hear the answer.

"Not _bad_ , no. As long as you don't give me some lame song and dance about finding different work. Minimum wage doesn't actually let a person survive in a college town." Noah pats the spot next to him again. "Sit down, Luke. We've got a few minutes."

"I know Oakdale isn't the cheapest place. And I'd be lying if I said I was sad you showed up." He unwraps his scarf, takes the offered place next to Noah. "If it's so expensive, why'd you come here? I know I asked earlier, but I still want to know. Surely there's better business to be had elsewhere?"

Noah rests his palm on Luke's leg. "Better business or locations doesn't always mean anything. Right now I'm trying to figure some things out. This is where those things have brought me."

Luke turns Noah's hand over, lets their palms touch. "And that's why you need access to WOAK?"

"In part."

"I know almost everyone in Oakdale. Do you need to meet anyone? Interview anyone?"

Noah grins. "You're cute, Ace. I'll give you that." He presses his lips together, seems to chose his words carefully. "I'm supposed to be gone at the end of the month. Thought leaving might be the better part of valor after, well, after the interview. If I'm not having any luck finding what I need, I might just hit you up for that." He leans his head against Luke's shoulder.

Luke's grip tightens. "You're leaving?"

*****

"Supposed to. Told my landlord not to rent the room yet, because I'd like the option to continue, but, yeah, you're right about the weather and I've been too distracted to get what I need." Noah cringes at his own head games.. _Why tell Luke he's leaving when he already paid the next month's rent?_

"But, I mean, I thought..."

Noah slips his hand from Luke's, raises it to his bicep. "You thought what, Luke?" He lets his eyes focus on the man next to him, studies the flush on his cheeks and the perfect dip of his upper lip that cries out to be kissed. He knows what he _wants_ Luke to say, but isn't sure he's willing to hear it.

"I guess I thought that maybe whatever this might be, that it wasn't just a one week stand or whatever. I can't imagine you not being around." Luke turns his face to face the far wall. "Guess that's one of those reasons to think of me as a kid. I _am_ too fucking naive for my own good."

"You're not naive. I'm sorry I ever said anything like that." Noah slips his hand to Luke's chin, turns his face to look at Noah's. "Okay, so yeah, you're not, not as experienced in the ways the world can suck as I am. That's not a crime, Luke. It's a blessing. Promise." He gives in to the urge he's had since he saw Luke at Java's first thing in the morning and kisses his forehead. One kiss leads to several as he peppers Luke's temples, his eyelids, his nose with gentle touches of his mouth. "I don't want you to feel obligated, don't want anyone to feel like they _owe_ me a thing. You especially."

Luke's voice is needy as Noah's name spills across his lips. He shudders a little, draws his hands up to clutch at Noah's hips, his skin. "I don't, I mean, you don't, I mean, there shouldn't be anyone _owing_ anybody anything. I don't want that."

Noah's body shivers at the heat from Luke's fingers under his shirt. "Everyone has an agenda. It's okay if you have one as well. I don't mind. _I_ have one. Since August when I decided to move, I've had one. I came to Oakdale with an agenda." He mouths at Luke's jaw. "Just didn't expect it to change, or grow a second head or whatever."

Luke runs his hands up and down Noah's spine, settles on the tattoo on his lower back. "But you're still leaving?"

"Maybe." He leans into Luke's hands, purrs at the caress. I'm not sure yet. I didn't really see a reason to stick around that wouldn't wind up hurting. Even my original reason sorta seems bad right now."

"But you don't want to talk about this right now, do you?" Luke shifts his head giving Noah better access.

"Not especially."

"What do you want?"

Noah pulls back. He's not going to tell Luke what he _really_ wants. There are some things he's just not ready to share. But he pauses, because a client has never asked him what he wants, and while objectively Noah knows Luke is no longer a client, he's still not used to declaring his own needs. "Oh, umm. Well." The heat rises up his neck, across his face. "Kissing is nice. I don't kiss a lot, y'know? Most people aren't willing to spend the extra money, and they really just want my mouth somewhere else anyway."

*****

"That's ... Noah, that's so sad." Luke's heart hurts a little bit. He doesn't always know what he wants, but he at least knows that he _can_ want. And not kissing Noah? That is a crime.

Noah shrugs. "Life goes on. Kissing gives a weird sense of intimacy. Most jobs don't want that." He pulls his hands through Luke's hair, tucks back an errant lock. "You were clearly not going to be most jobs."

"You think, maybe," Luke whispers. "Maybe I'm no longer a job?' He wants to kick himself the moment the words exit his mouth, wants to take them back. "You know what? You don't have to answer that, actually. I'm not sure I want to know, or have to know, or whatever. It's really obnoxious of me to ask. And I don't want to screw you out of money or anything." He bites his lip and wishes he could shut up. "I can pay, if you want me to? It may be dumb, but ever since that night, I've been carrying extra cash on me. Didn't know if you'd let me near you again, but wanted to be prepared just in case." He tightened his hands against Noah, hoped against hope that he wouldn't need to use his cash.

"I don't want your money, Luke. Seeing you was _never_ about that. I didn't expect to wind up with a job when I agreed to the interview. I wanted to spend time with you." Noah shivers. "Still do. I'm not going to lie and say I might not be gone at the end of the month, but I'm here now. And so are you."

Luke appreciates the effect he has on Noah, likes the sense of power. "I _am_ here. And you're far too dressed. I can take you to WOAK in awhile, but I believe I'm going to explore your jewelry first. That is, if you'll let me?"

"I think I'd like that." Noah shrugged off his jacket. "Umm, should I just, that is, how naked do you want me?"

"Oh god, Noah. You can't ask a question like that to me. You're so fucking hot. I want you completely naked. I've been jerking off to visions of you since you kicked me out." Luke peels Noah's shirt off his body, pulls it over his head. His mouth dries. His dick throbs. "Fuck."

"Is that bad?"

"No. Oh no. Definitely not bad. The new beads. Jesus." His fingers shake as they rest below Noah's nipples. "Can I?" He gestures with his head at his hands.

"Yes." Noah shifts back, falls against his pillows.

Luke moans at Noah's willingness. He straddles Noah's legs and lifts his own shirt off. "We're more or less even clothes-wise. And now I'm going to kiss you." He doesn't know where to start. The buffet of pale skin beneath him almost overwhelms his plans.

Luke begins with a careful lick behind Noah's ear. He grazes his teeth across Noah's earlobe and bites, licks again, but this time down beneath Noah's jaw. "You taste good."

"Nnngh. You _feel_ good." Noah's hands reach out, weave through Luke's hair.

Luke bites at Noah's collarbone, laves his tongue down to a piercing. He sucks the metal into his mouth, tugs sharply. He revels in the tang of metal and flesh, kisses the nipples Noah liked abused. The sharp surge of his hair being pulled acted like a match against gasoline in his blood. He slides himself up the expanse of Noah's chest, so they're skin to skin and _god that feels good_. He laps at Noah's lips and uses the quiet moan of his partner to slip inside. Their tongues circle around each others as Luke explores Noah's mouth. The sharpness of canines, the smoothness inside and the strong flavor of coffee. He loses himself in the sensual experience of kissing a man who should be practiced in this art, but has admitted he isn't.

*****

Noah pants against the onslaught to his senses. "Holy shit," he gasps. "Jesus."

"This is alright?"

"More than alright." He clutches Luke to him and sucks his tongue into his mouth. The flavor of Luke bursts on his tongue, sweet and creamy with the sharp tang of coffee and innocence underneath. Noah doesn't know what he's doing exactly, but he knows how to give head. You use your tongue either way, so he's confident at least in his ability to work his tongue.

He isn't prepared for the sensation of the heat of Luke's chest, or the gentle persistence of Luke's hands against his sides. Doesn't know how to respond to warm petting and lazy movements that weren't prep for sex. He breathes in the experience of Luke focused on him, giving in to a memory he thought he would never get to re-experience.

Noah tugs at Luke's body, shifts him to lay on top of Noah, lining their cocks up through their jeans. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." The jut of his cock against Luke's hip, and Luke's cock against his hip have Noah seeing stars. "So hot. So hot. Didn't know it could be like this." He shakes his head, thrusts up for more sensation. "Didn't ever want it to be like this."

Luke fingers Noah's jewelry with one hand, sticks the other under Noah's back, curls his fingers up and around his shoulder. "I'm not really fifteen, even if I'm about to come in my pants like I am."

"I'm not fifteen, and I've been hooking since I wasn't much older and _I'm_ about to do the same, so I wouldn't worry. Just kiss me, Ace. _God_." Noah doesn't understand exactly when he lost control of the situation, but with Luke's arms underneath him, holding him like he might break, it's pretty clear control is gone. He thrusts up, enjoys the friction of denim against denim, the knowledge that there is muscle underneath. He hitches his leg around Luke's, drags him in closer. His mouth hovers, unsure, absorbing the soft damp kisses Luke barely breathes. Noah can't get his lungs to work properly, but he's not sure that matters. He sucks at Luke's bottom lip, slides his tongue just inside his mouth.

He's never really had the opportunity to explore someone's mouth slowly. There were kisses - plenty of kisses - shared with Juan, but those always were tinged with impatient urgency. And Juan never tasted anything like the sweetness Luke offered. Juan was sex and sun and desperation, even when things were slow, calmer, they were always rushed. But this? There is no rush, no need, just a slip and slide that Noah wasn't entirely sure he could trust.

"So good," Luke whispers. "Feels so good." He tongues his way down Noah's neck, kisses his way down Noah's check, bites at his abdomen. Luke returns on a different path than he traced down, licks his way in to Noah's mouth.

Noah attempts to keep the panic racing in his body away. It chases through his blood like lightning. His heart pounds suddenly, faster, quicker. "Luke." It's not sexy to be frightened. Not sexy to hear blood rushing in his ear, whiting out his desire. "Luke, you've gotta..." He pushes at Luke, harder than he means to, harder than he wants. "Please, let go of me."

Luke rolls off Noah.

Noah aches to grab him, curl himself into strong arms, into this weird sense of safety that has his equilibrium thrown off.

"What's wrong? Did I?" Luke wipes at his mouth, stares at his fingers. "Did I hurt you?"

Noah shakes his head back and forth, tucks his knees up toward his chin, wraps his arms around his legs. "Couldn't catch my breath." He gasps for emphasis. "Dizzy." The world spins a little. He can't find his balance.

"Oh." Luke moves closer. "I'm going to put my hand on your back and rub, okay. Follow my hand, try to breathe with me." He puts his hand on Noah's back, up and down, as he counts. Noah coughs, tries to follow Luke's lead. "There you go. One two three. Four five six. It's alright, Noah. You're okay."

Something about Luke's words, about the soothing tone. Noah believes he could be okay, that things might be alright. He leans into Luke's arms, lets them both envelope him. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about."  


 

[Long awaited 5c](http://nouveau-monday.livejournal.com/29585.html)


	6. The Interview (Part 5c)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How dates go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**Title:** The Interview (Part 5c)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/Luke  
 **Rating:** PG-13 (Language only)  
 **Word Count:** 1.7k  
 **Summary:** How dates go wrong.  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

 

 

 

 

 

Noah curls away, struggles to free himself from the arms around him. It doesn't matter how much he wants to stay. There is letting someone closer and then there is acknowledging weaknesses someone could use, exploit, abuse. "Let me _go_."

"I'm not holding you." Luke's voice is soft, patient.

"Your arm's around me. Other one is pushing at my back. I may not be used to attention like this but I'm not stupid." He tries to breathe, wishes he could remember the easy rhythm. The sound of his heart threatening to exit his body via his throat isn't helping.

"Easy, easy. In. One, two, three. Hold it. Out. One, two, three. Again. In. One, two, three."

Noah's voice hitches. Fresh tears burn behind his eyelids. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Hey, no. Hush. You were doing fine. You _were_. Keep breathing. Please." Luke's fingers continue their circles against Noah's skin.

"Gotta sit up. Need water, air." Noah's lungs hurt like he's been swallowing glass shards. The room spins over him. He shifts to stuff his head between his legs. "So, umm," he talks to his toes. "I know I'm not all up on how kids these days date, but I'm thinking that having a date with a hooker who flirts with your BFF barista, takes you back to his apartment and then has a panic attack isn't the normal way of doing things."

Luke kneels behind Noah, his legs around his waist, pets his hair, the nape of his neck. "If I wanted normal, I'd be dating my BFF barista. And, no, just _no_. He fumbles a rub to Noah's shoulders, adjusts to sit next to him, bumps their knees together. "Want me to get you some water? Maybe an aspirin or something?"

Noah nods, afraid to speak. His heart thumps stupidly in his chest. _Luke doesn't want normal._ He dares to let hope bloom, before squashing it just as quickly.

Luke slips off the bed, catches his pants and does them back up. "Water, I'm guessing, is in the kitchen. Where would meds be?"

"Bathroom. Behind the mirror. Bottled water in the fridge. Soda also, if you want some. Beer, maybe." Noah exhales, inhales, listens to the pad of Luke's footsteps in the small studio apartment. He contemplates his refrigerator, what secrets it can reveal to Luke's. Two glasses, two plates, two bowls, one mug. Bottled water, bread, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Multi-vitamins, maybe. That was it. _How depressing._

Noah hears the refrigerator open on its sticky hinges, but not close. Then silence. "You really are emptying out, aren't you?"

"What?" Noah can't fully make sense of Luke's words.

"You just don't seem to have a lot here. Thought maybe you were using stuff up so it wasn't hard to pack?" He comes back with two pills, a bottle of water and a warm washcloth. "Here, take these. There you go. Your breathing's back to normal, even though you're still pale. Lay down, okay. Put this on your forehead and close your eyes."

Noah doesn't want that, doesn't want to be the asshole who managed to fuck up the only date he's had in over seven years. "Don't want to," he manages to admit. "I'm sorry I screwed up. Maybe I can make it up to you? I don't know how, but I will."

"Don't be dumb. You're sick. I can stay. You didn't mean to get sick? Didn't plan it deliberately?"

"I don't do shit like that." Noah bristles. He hasn't faked illness since he lived with the Colonel.

"Easy, easy. It was mostly rhetorical. Promise. Hey, you think maybe Roth poisoned you?"

Noah laughs. "He _loves_ you. Could be trying to bump me off."

"Shut up." Luke tugs Noah closer to him, pets his stomach beneath his shirt. "Did I mention earlier, I like the eyeliner. I would have thought I wouldn't. Don't like to think of you painting yourself for me like you paint yourself for them." He places a delicate kiss on Noah's temple. "I was wrong. You look _hot_."

"I wanted to," Noah whispers. "I wanted you to know you were worth it. More than just an interview. Someone," he swallows. "Someone I once knew told me it brought out my eyes, said it made me beautiful." Noah blinks back the damp salt that trails down his cheeks.

"You _are_ beautiful." Luke wipes his thumbs under Noah's eyes. "And your breathing seems to have evened out completely. You want to try sleeping for awhile?"

"I'd rather go back to making out." Noah cringes at the petulance in his voice.

"Me too," Luke confesses. "But I like you breathing. I don't really want you dead. Necrophilia has never been my thing, y'know."

"Yeah, that's a kink even I'm not willing to do." Noah wrinkles his nose. "Can we, I mean, if you don't mind, can we not talk about death?" He bites his lip, does not think of anyone else. "My mom died. Did you know that? I don't really know what happened, but she's dead. Has been for sometime. Only, I think the woman I thought was my mom maybe wasn't. And that someone else was." He shakes his head.

"You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to," Luke rushes to assure Noah.

"It's not like that. I just don't know how to explain it."

"Is that part of what you need at WOAK?"

Noah nods. "Yeah. I've got some notes, got a theory, but I'm not sure how much of it fits. Oakdale is a weird little place. Big city and small town all at the same time. Trying to slot stuff in isn't easy." His lungs don't hurt, and his head isn't spinning. His ear echoes with the sound of Luke's heartbeat. "Still, you got professors, doctors, nurses, alleys and coffee shop. That's pretty much all I need to know. A school big enough not to notice when a stranger slips into lectures, but too dumb to swipe IDs is my kind of school."

Luke's choked breath reverberates in Noah's ear. "That's why I saw you in that class and you never came back? You were sneaking into a class? Wait, I don't get it. You _like_ school? Why don't you just go back and get some sort of degree?"

Noah lurches out Luke's arms, stumbles out of bed. "Why don't I _just go back_? Just go back? like it's that fucking easy. I haven't been in school in years, fucking years. Haven't been there since I split from the Colonel. And you think it's easy?" He flails his arms, forces a safe distance between their bodies. "You don't know. You've been dancing around me, watching me work for months now. But look at me. Luke, _look at me_. I'm a whore. A whore who hasn't been in a school since ninth fucking grade when I ran away before I could be beat one more time. Ran away before I had to hear what real men do, what real men are, why I'm never, ever going to be one." He collapses to the floor on shaky legs, wraps his arms around his exhausted body. "Oh shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Luke," he blinks teardrops off his eyelashes, gazes up at the beautiful embodiment of innocence frozen on his bed. "You have to go. Please." He crawls to the side of his bed, keeps his distance, but snatches at Luke's hands. Noah kisses each of his fingers, sucks at the sweet white chocolate taste that lingers. His throat burns. Shame rises in his throat, leaves him helpless, ripped open and raw.

"Noah." That same benediction Luke offered before spills effortlessly from his angelic lips.

"Don't do this to me. Don't see me like this. Not now, not yet. I want to see you again, want to know you, but, not ... not like this." Noah bites at his lip. "I don't know what you want, what you need, but I." He swallows. "I need to do this even slower. I've never wanted to _not_ fuck something up so bad in my life."

Luke's almost dimples ease the ache in Noah's heart. "I'm worried about you. I didn't mean to imply anything about school. I'm sorry. I'd still like to know you, know your life, if you'll let me."

"I don't know how." Noah closes his eyes, prays to the dark of his eyelids. "I don't know how to do this."

"Shh," Luke slips a hand from Noah's, pets his hair. "Shh. I know. I can help you through this. Get a nap now. Get sleep. And I'll be back later. I'll come find you. Give me a text once you're off work. We'll meet back up. Make plans for WOAK." He doesn't wait for a response, kisses Noah's forehead. "Into bed, okay. That's good." He tugs up the covers over Noah's clothed body. "And really do it. Don't undersell yourself or me. Text me before you come home. I can meet you here. Any time. I _want_ to be here."

Noah nods. Blood suffuses his face and won't leave. "You really want me too?"

"I do. Sleep now. Promise me. Sleep." Luke stands by his head until Noah's eyes flutter and shut. "Take care of yourself."

 

 

[The next part is here](http://nouveau-monday.livejournal.com/34632.html).


	7. The Interview (Part 6a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah's running. Luke is hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part had almost no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Jill, Darling, you were great as always. Thank you.

**Title:** The Interview (Part 6a)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/OMCs  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 1.9k  
 **Summary:** Noah's running. Luke is hurt.  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** This part had almost no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Jill, Darling, you were great as always. Thank you.

> He threaded his fingers into Noah's hair, yanked his head back. "Say it," he hissed. The hand not scalping him smacked his ass. " _Say. It._ "
> 
> "The best. God. The best. _Please_ , Sir. Please." It hurt to say, even as act. He _knew_ better, _wanted_ more, _needed_ ... He shook his head, reminded himself that he couldn't have what he wanted.
> 
> "Please, what?" Another searing blow landed on him, lower, almost on his thigh.
> 
> "Want you to fuck me, Sir. Show me what a real man feels like. Punish me. Teach me. Please, Sir."
> 
> "Good boy." The fingers slid from his curls, shoved his head lower, forced his shoulders and elbows to lock. "Don't move." He spanked him again. "You're so ready for me. You needed to be punished." Another handprint added to the countless others. Teeth raked his spine. "But you can have your reward now."
> 
> Muscle stretched and burned around the forceful intrusion of the cock impaling him. Noah bit back a scream, tried to adjust it to what might be a begging whimper. The plug he'd worn to prep for the scene aided, but in no way absolved him of the pain. _At least Mark always came quickly._ Noah adjusted his knees, rocked his hips back, squeezed. "Thank you, Sir. You're too good to me. To kind." _Help me forget. Help me forget. Please, God, help me forget._
> 
> "Damn right, Boy." He shoved forward, buried himself balls deep. "Don't forget it."

The drone of the hall light drills into his exhausted body. His ass, his jaw, his back, Christ, his _nipples_ hurt. Tony and his buddies are nothing if not enthusiastic. The extra grand he earned for taking on three at once more than made up for wanting to sleep well into the next week. At least now he can.

> John's hand stroked Noah's cheek. "You're so beautiful like this. So beautiful all full of me. Taking me all in." He fucked forward, slow and deliberate. "The way you get on your knees. The way you swallow me down." He slipped his finger into Noah's mouth aside his dick. "You only do this for me, Baby. Only what I can you give, right?"
> 
> Noah nodded, teased John's finger with his tongue stud before swallowing tight over the strawberry latex clad cock. He opened his eyelids as wide as he could. A lesson learned at the backhand of his father. Wide eyes didn't show tears, and, he could stare past the Colonel without him knowing. Noah cupped John's balls, stroked them. His jaw ached. _Think of the money. Five hundred dollars._ For five hundred, he could fake romance. For five hundred, he could do damn near anything. Noah coughed as John surged forward. Tears come, unbidden, but he attributed it to the thrust of cock on his gag reflex

He slumps in the stairwell. Exhaustion and hunger war with the need to get into his apartment. _Would the landlord care if he slept it off in the hallway?_ He wouldn't be the first, or the last. The thought of going back to how he was - puking in hallways, passing out without knowing where he was - lets Noah tap energy reserves he doesn't know he has. More from memory than vision, he eases himself onto his floor.

> Tony stepped into the alley, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He waved a wad of bills in front of him. "Passed my final exam. Me and a few buddies were looking to celebrate. We got a little something something, some booze, but we wanted a little more. Thousand bucks, a night at The Lakeview, some decent weed and alcohol. What do you say, Jake? It's a better deal than hundred dollar blowjobs back here. Not that you aren't worth every penny."
> 
> Noah's fingers slid over the money and counted it. "I don't smoke, or drink." He focused on the cash. "But I won't say no to being your party favor for cash like that." He peeled off a fifty. "Tell me the room number. I need to freshen my supplies and put on my party clothes. You can pay me the rest C.o.D. Deal?" _Lube, prep, plugs, rings._ This he could do. This he understood.
> 
> "Deal." Tony skimmed through the messages on his phone. "Room 302. Tell the front desk that you're there to see Tony Stark. We'll tell them we're expecting Jake ... ?"
> 
> "Jake Mayer. Tony Stark, huh? That's cute." The thought of flirting, of acting like he wanted it, turned his stomach. But money was money. He couldn't turn it down.
> 
> "I try." He winked. "We'll tell them we're expecting Jake Mayer. Half hour sound good?"
> 
> "Make it an hour. If I'm taking on more than one of you, I need to be well prepped."

 

 

_Fuck_. Someone rests, hopefully too asleep to fuck him up, outside his apartment. Back against the wall, knees bent, head resting on them. Noah pats himself down. Maybe his hallway robber won't look in his shoes if it comes down to it. He's fought off thieves before, but no way is that going to happen now. The hundred in his pocket would have to satisfy this guy. _Maybe he'd take a blowjob and piss off?_ They could discuss why B &E, armed theft, or whatever else are stupid ideas later. Much later. When he wasn't so god damned tired.

Noah held the money between his fingers. "Whoever you are, it's your lucky day. Here. Take it. Don't care what you do with it. Drink it, snort it, hell, go buy a cup of coffee. I don't care. Just get away from my fucking door. I've barely been home in -"

"Seventeen days. It's been seventeen days, twenty hours and thirty six minutes."

Noah collapses to his knees. Luke's hair is a mess. His face is blotchy, worried. His lips are chapped and cracked. He's the most beautiful sight Noah thinks he's ever seen.

"Not that I counted or anything. Not that I waited, day dreamed ... Fuck. I am the stupid little kid you said I am." He smacks his hand against the wall, uses it as leverage to shove himself up. "This was stupid of me. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, I do know. But obviously I'm an idiot. You've done just fine without me, haven't you?" He scans slowly down Noah's body. "You've certainly been busy." He shoves his knit hat back over his hair. "Have a good life, or, whatever."

Noah reaches forward, grabs onto Luke's hand and refuses to let go. "You never should have come back -"

"We can at least agree on that." Luke shakes his hand. "Let go of me."

"No." Noah knee-walks forward, rests his head on Luke's hip. "No. Please. You don't understand. I didn't mean you should never come back ever. I just meant that I hate to have you see me like this." Noah forces himself to stand up. "Come inside, Luke. You look, fuck, you look like you've been bent over more times than you can count."

Luke winces.

"Hell. That was wrong. I just, please. Come in. Have a drink." He tugs harder than he needs to and watches as Luke tumbles into his arms. Noah swallows. "I bought hot chocolate after, umm, you know, just after. In case." He stares at his shoes. "In case I saw you again."

"Well here I am. Look your fill." Luke swivels out of Noah's grasp. "And you've obviously got all the engagements you can handle." He gestures up and down Noah's body for effect. "I can do this. I was going to be all suave, and ask if you wanted to do something with me. Maybe take in a movie or something. Then, if that went well and you said yes. I thought maybe we could hold hands, make out in the back of the theatre. From there, I thought I'd offer to buy you dinner, or offer you to buy me dinner. You be the working one of the two of us. From there I was picturing dancing in your apartment and taking you to bed. And in the morning, over breakfast, I was going to ask if you'd help me with a project I'm working on that would give you access to WOAK regularly and with limited restrictions." He shakes his head. "I'm an asshole. No," Luke holds up his hand. "Actually, I'm thinking that maybe you're the asshole. I'm just the dumbass who thought maybe he stood a chance."

The lights appear dimmer as Noah watches Luke's back. _Let him go, Mayer. He doesn't deserve to put up with your shit. Let him go._ He reaches out, doesn't beg. His words - _You were the_ only _chance_ \- fail to reach over the shuffle of Luke's boots.

Noah swallows and turns to his door. His fingers hurt from their clenched position around his keys. His mouth fills with words unspoken. His heart and stomach war with emotions he can't identify. "Don't go," he whispers to his door. "Don't go." Louder this time. Keys in the lock, Noah moves to run. His body tries to revolt, but he runs, as best he can, to the stairwell. "Luke! Luke, please, wait. You're not a dumbass, but I _am_ an asshole. Please." His voice cracks. He trips on his feet. "Come back upstairs."

Noah's breath catches when he sees Luke stop.

Luke doesn't turn around, but he doesn't forward. "Why?"

"It's not what you think."

Luke's laugh is brittle. He tips his head back, meets Noah's eye up and behind him. "You don't know what I think."

"You think I'm a jerk with the emotional maturity of a, a, something with no emotional maturity. You think I'd rather fuck strangers than accept a great offer from someone who might want to know me for more than my ability to give head." Noah chewed on his lip. "Am I close?"

"Surprisingly so." This time Luke moves, walks back to stand a step below Noah. "You forgot the part where I couldn't decide if I wanted to ask Roth to stick rat poison in your coffee or if I would rather have the joy of doing it myself."

Noah's nails bite crescent moons in his palms. "I haven't been to Java since -"

"Yeah. I know." Luke tucks his hair behind his ears. "You mentioned hot chocolate?"

"I did." Noah smiles. "I, uhh, need a shower, but if you can wait, maybe make yourself at home, for about fifteen minutes, umm, I could make some." He ran a hand down Luke's bicep, past his elbow, meshed their hands, palm to palm with fingers tangled.

Luke nods. "I can do that." He leaves his fingers in Noah's grip.

 

 

[The next section](http://nouveau-monday.livejournal.com/44263.html)


	8. The Interview (Part 6b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot chocolate. Making up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

**Title:** The Interview (Part 6b)  
 **Author:** nouveau_monday  
 **Pairing:** Noah/Luke  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Word Count:** 2.2k  
 **Summary:** Hot chocolate. Making up.  
 **Spoilers:** This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.  
 **Disclaimer:** As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P &G and possibly others, but definitely not me. _That_ is the real travesty of all of this.  
 **Notes:** This part had no beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

 

 

Luke chews on his lip. He lost his Chapstick and never replaced it. _What was the point when the only guy he wanted to kiss was ignoring him?_ He drums his fingers on the cheap fabric of the sofa in the living room area of Noah’s studio. He’s tired and he’s angry. He can’t tell if he’s more pissed at himself for showing up and giving in, or coming back on the stairs. Or maybe it’s Noah? Noah who looks like he hasn’t slept in the last two weeks, who looks like he’s taken anyone and everyone six ways to sunday.

He shoots to his feet. Pacing might burn some energy. _Don’t think of the bed. Don’t think of the shower. Don’t think of beautiful naked wet Noah in the shower and then on the bed._ Nothing has changed since their pseudo-date. The apartment is just as empty and taken up primarily by the bed that Luke is _not_ thinking about. He peels off his hat, gloves, scarf, coat, stacks them on top of each other on the edge of the sofa. Probably he shouldn’t spy, but Noah said to make himself at home.

Luke stands in front of the shelves across from Noah’s bed. There are a few beaten up paperbacks, a cheap television, a laptop, and some notebooks in not much better shape than the books. His fingers itch to open the clasp on a manilla envelope, soft and frayed around the corners, the distinct impression of photographs inside it. His hands hover over it, but no, he can’t. _Life would be easier with fewer scruples._ The silence of the shower turning off justifies his wussing out. “Want me to order food or something?” He asks now that the water is off.

“What?”

“Food? Are you hungry? Because I’m starv-” Luke feels his jaw snap shut.

Noah wipes the small blue towel in his hair to dry it. His pants stay in place by a gravity defying miracle and the exaggerated jut of his hip bones. When Noah went into the bathroom, he had been fully dressed. Luke would have noticed the almost nakedness. He’s not dead yet.

Luke closes his eyes, shakes his head. “Starving,” he whispers.

“I could do food. I couldn’t really eat before the gig, and room service at the Lakeview didn’t appeal.” Noah shrugs. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the offer, but come on? Tony thought three, turned out to be five. Nice bonus and all, but really? Sometimes I don’t want to eat where I work.” He flops the towel over the bathroom door and then himself across his bed. Nimble fingers rifle through a drawer, the same drawer that Luke knows has condoms and lube and _other stuff_. He fans take out menus with an amused glance. “I’m easy.” He flushes. “Well, duh, I guess. I mean. Here. Take your pick. My treat. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I can afford it. And anyway, I’m the one pathetic enough to wait outside your door. Maybe I’ll make up some man points if I buy us food.”

Noah frowns, stands. “You don’t need man points, whatever those are. You need to let me be grateful that you’re here now. And let me make you hot chocolate.” Pink slides across his cheeks and briefly Luke can see him as younger than his experience makes him. “I maybe looked up a few recipes. I thought, well, I thought that maybe if I worked up the courage to find you, that I would try to convince you back here with it.” He busies himself at the stove, naked back to Luke. “That’s really lame. See, all testosterone clearly in your court. Leaving aside the fact that I just took it up the ass multiple times in multiple ways and can barely walk.” He slaps his forehead. “Umm, we can forget I just said that.”

Luke debates dropping to his knees and licking the infinity sign on Noah’s back. He wants to hug him and hit him simultaneously. “It’s your job. I can hate it a bunch and still understand that. I _do_ hate it a bunch, but it brought you here, brought you now. And, I’m trying hard to stay in the moment.” To prove this, he goes with his first instinct and slips to his knees, wraps his arms around Noah’s torso, traces his tongue around the dark ink. The tense of muscle reminds him once again that jumping on someone who has just been used about as much one can might not be a good idea. “Shit. I’m. Fuck. Sorry. Really sorry.” He feathers kisses across the expanse of back, lets his hands grip at Noah’s hips, pet down his thighs. “I didn’t want you to think that it couldn’t happen. That I wouldn’t want you. I know what you’ve done, what you do. You don’t have to think it, but I promise. If I had any doubt, I’m pretty sure I know who Tony is. I know what he likes.” Luke presses his forehead to Noah’s vertebrae. “I don’t know how to do this, exactly, but please.”

 

*****

Noah eases the pan to the stove with a soft clink. His fingers cover Luke’s. “Shh. Shh. It’s me who should be apologizing, groveling, whatever. I’m not used to being around people who ... I don’t know. I don’t know how to be other than what I am, even if I want it.” He unthreads himself to pour the milk and ignores his jitters. “You need to let go of me, so I can measure stuff. Can you? Would you stand up? It makes me anxious. I don’t, you shouldn’t.” He pauses. “You shouldn’t be on your knees for me, Luke. No one should.” _Ever._ He measures out vanilla and cocoa powder, dumps them in to bloom. That’s what the recipe says. _Bloom._ Noah likes that word. It had made him think of Luke’s smile.

He turns within the bracket of Luke’s arms, cards his hands through the blonde strands. “I don’t hate being a whore. It’s hard to say I like it. I didn’t plan on it, that’s for sure. But, I don’t hate it.” He closes his eyes against the mistrust he’ll see. Juan never got it. He understood survival, the need to sell himself, but the rest? Ultimately it was a secret Noah held tight.

“Can you tell me about it?” Luke stands, shifts his grip to rest on the oven door handle. “It maybe didn’t come out how I expected it, but I came to interview you once. I have a pitch for you still, if you’re interested?” He takes a step back. “Part of me wants to try to separate what we had, could have, and what I’m asking. But hear me out.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Noah leans forward, enjoys the slightly sour heat of Luke’s breath against his eyelashes. “The hot chocolate’s almost ready. Let me serve you. We can sit on, umm, the couch, I guess? I bought cookies too. If you want?” He grits his teeth against his own pathetic optimism.

“Cookies would be great.” Each puff of air binds itself tight around Noah’s heart. “Do you want me to get them while you pour?”

He nods, tongue firmly between his teeth.

“And they are ... where exactly?” Luke prompts.

“Right. Umm. Top shelf, next to the fridge.” He turns before he makes more of an ass of himself. Again. He adds the double shot of instant espresso, turns off the stove and stirs. Noah stares at the recipe, sniffs at the pan. It smells like it might actually taste good. He waits until Luke steps away from his space, until he can’t feel his scent, until his knees won’t give out. Several deep inhales later, he readies their drinks. Noah toes open the refrigerator, pulls out the can of whipped cream and mounds it on. He decorates it with chocolate sprinkles.

The mugs burn his hands slightly but Noah doesn’t spill. He can pretend to be calm, even though it’s a total lie. There’s not a lot he hasn’t learned to fake. Chalk up another benefit to the life of a rentboy. He hands off one to Luke and curls himself into the far corner. He squishes his face up. “This shouldn’t poison us. I made sure that I removed all potentially harmful products before making it.”

“Since when do you have whipped cream and sprinkles?” Luke holds his cup up to his face. “Come to think of it, when did you get these? I think I would have noticed these two when I was here last. Bright green with blue dots? Not exactly subtle.”

Noah laps at the cream on his. At least he couldn’t screw that up. “It was a thing.”

“What?”

“It was this thing.” He glares over the steam. “It was this thing. I saw it and thought, that maybe if I purchased something it would help with the courage thing. That if I had the cups and the ingredients, I couldn’t not eventually find you and tell you that I’m a mess. I don’t buy things unless I need them. It’s not practical.” He clacks the barbell on his tongue against his teeth. “And there’s no reason for you to know that, or care, or know me. And I get that I’m always gonna be this weird loser who hangs onto strange sappy dreams and never gets it.” Noah places his mug on the floor so he can grind his palms against his eyelids. “But you came back, and you were here waiting. And you knew when we’d last seen each other down to the moment. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Noah hears the thump of Luke putting down his hot chocolate. “I don’t know what to do with that either. I’m not even sure I understood what you were trying to say.”

“Yeah. Not sure myself.”

The shift in the couch warns him Luke moves, but he doesn’t expect to have his ankles tugged by strong, warm hands. “What are you doing?” Noah should panic. People don’t grab him. Well, they _do_ , but only when the contract is clearly defined. Payment up front or nothing.

“Saying thank you.” Luke’s thumbs rubs into Noah’s arches. “I love whipped cream, and sprinkles on my hot chocolate.” He digs into the soft pads between Noah’s toes. “I really love that even with nothing in your apartment, you have these ridiculous mugs. They don’t really belong, but they’re here now.” He slides up, circles over ankles and higher still to Noah’s calves. “Gives me hope for me. That maybe you might want me to be here as well.”

Noah fists his hands into Luke’s hair, rubs at his scalp. “God, I do. I really do. And not just because you have a secret talent for massage which I’m just this minute figuring out.” He stares at the cracks in the ceiling, the peeling paint. “Aside from my regulars, I’m set for the next month. Tomorrow, tomorrow I was going to find you, even if that meant begging Roth. I don’t care about any pitch, about any anything. I don’t care how, but I want you around.” He tugs Luke up, pulls him forward, stares at him with an honesty he hasn’t been able to find in years. “I can’t, no, I _won’t_ ask you for anything. But, if you want to be here. I’ll try to let you. It’s the best I can do.”

Luke melts across Noah, nuzzles into his neck, kisses at the skin behind his ear. “That’s all I can ask for.” He rubs their noses over each other. “If you could find a way to try and trust me, you’ll see, it’s all I ever wanted.”


End file.
